The Path to Knowledge
by Starreacher
Summary: The Persians have withdrawn, and Farah is having strange dreams. Set after Sands of Time. Farah x Prince. Rated M for lemon in chapter 14 - finally! Read and review please people, or I get upset and don't feel like writing :c Finally finished after a hiatus of five years!
1. Chapter 1

By the way, I don't own the Prince of Persia characters. This is a non-profit story, written for my own amusement and the amusement of others.

Chapter 1

'_Just call me… Kakolukia.' The young soldier said, smiling mysteriously. Then he slid down the tree trunk and was lost in the undergrowth of the forest. The woman stood at her balcony for a moment longer, her eyes wide at the sound of the word that she thought only she knew. _

Farah opened her eyes. Sighing deeply, she turned onto her side and pondered her dream. It had been three months to the day that the Persian army had left her father's borders without warning and returned to their homeland. Yet she still could not stop thinking and dreaming about the young soldier that had visited her the morning that they left, killed the traitorous vizier, and returned to her the Dagger of Time. And then there was that ridiculous tale that he had told her, about him releasing the Sands of Time, and the relationship that they had had. Of course he was lying, but something was refusing to let her forget it. If it was a lie, why tell it her in the first place? And how did he know the word that her mother had told her before she died? Farah sighed, then closed her eyes again.

_Brown hair, blue eyes, a short brown beard, a blue uniform. He stood before her, legs slightly apart, breathing heavily from his run through the jungle, asking her to hear out his story. The dream shifts, and he is fighting the traitorous vizier's doppelgangers, his muscles rippling under his uniform as he twists over the puppets head and delivers devastating blows on its back. The dream shifts again, and he is stood over the body of the vizier, breathing heavily after his fight, then straightens and turns to Farah. The conversation plays out, as it has before, and the sleeper waits for the inevitable moment when he hands her the dagger. But the dream changes. He leans in and quickly kisses her, and she admonishes him. Then, somehow, the scene rewinds, and Farah knows that he has used the Dagger. The conversation plays out once more, he hands her the Dagger, then slides down the tree and out of sight. _

Farah opened her eyes once more. Panting, she swung her legs out of bed. She had never seen that before, but somehow, she knew that it was the truth. Her memory was beginning to fight the Sands, and she suddenly realised that what he had told her might be the truth. She had to find out.

'Nona!' She called. Her slave ran in from the next room, a tall girl with short dark hair, dressed in the red breastband and skirt of a high-ranking slave and carrying a protective dagger.

'Yes princess?' She said, making the gesture of subservience by kneeling down and touching her forehead to the floor.

'Get me my red sari for today, I think.' Nona nodded and bowed low, then scurried off to do her mistresses bidding while Farah walked through to her adjoining room where four young women attended her bath. Slipping off her sleeping muslin, she stepped down into the warm water and lay back, savouring the smell of the scented oils and flower petals that the girls had put in.

'Will there be anything else, mistress?' One of the girls murmured, making the salaam gesture. Around the room, the other girls put their hands into the praying position and bowed low with her.

'No, that's it for now. But be ready when I call.' Farah sighed dreamily, letting the warm water relax her.

'Yes mistress.' The girl murmured, and walked backwards out of the room with her head bowed. The others followed suit.

Farah closed her eyes, sighed, then opened them again. Pulling her legs under her, she swam to the centre of the bath and dived. A few seconds later, she resurfaced. Dipping her head back, she swept her dark hair from her face and swam to the edge. Reaching up, she took the soapstone that Nona held out for her.

'You know, the oils alone clean you enough. You don't have to use that thing as well.' Nona gently chided her.

'Who are you, my mother?' Farah retorted to her long time friend and servant, although she treated her as an equal. 'Where are the other girls?'

'I sent them away.' Nona said, taking off her thin sandals and hitching her skirts up. Sitting at the side of the bath, she swung her legs in and began to wash as well. Farah looked at her as she washed.

'If you get caught, I would have to have you killed.' Farah reproached her.

'Yes well, I haven't been caught in ten years. I doubt if they will catch me now.' Nona retorted. Farah giggled, remembering the day she had been given Nona as a slave and invited her to share her bath, then yelled at the guard for attacking her new best friend. They were only nine at the time.

'How did you sleep last night?' Nona interrupted her memory. Farah smiled brightly.

'Like a baby.'

'Liar.' Nona stated bluntly. 'I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. You had that dream again, didn't you? The one with the soldier who told you the tale.'

'Yes I did.' Farah admitted, looking down.

'You have to stop thinking about him!' Nona hissed. 'If your father found out that you loved a mere soldier who had entered your private bedchamber he would have your head!'

'I don't love him!' Farah answered hotly.

'Yes, you do! You dream about him, you can't stop thinking about him, you talk about him all the time – you're obsessed with him!' Nona said in a frantic undertone.

'Do I? Well, even if I did, my father wouldn't notice a thing! He's too busy with trying to find out why the Persians withdrew and haven't attacked yet.' Farah said in a soft voice.

'It changed last night.' She continued. Nona, despite her misgivings, looked interested. 'Well, this morning when I was half asleep.'

'What happened?' Nona prodded.

'Before he gave me the Dagger, he kissed me.' Farah murmured, looking from under her lowered lashes at Nona.

'And?' Nona almost shrieked.

'I told him that he assumed too much, and he used the Da-' Farah caught herself before she mentioned the Dagger's powers. There were some things she would not even tell Nona, for her sake as well as everyone else's.

'He used magic to turn back time, then it played out as normal.' She finished. Nona sat back, and let out the breath she had been holding.

'How did it feel, when he kissed you?' She finally asked, after a long silence.

Farah paused before answering, thinking long and hard about her answer.

'It felt…right.'


	2. Chapter 2

By the way, I don't own the Prince of Persia characters. This is a non-profit story, written for my own amusement and the amusement of others.

Chapter 2

The men sang bawdy songs in drunken voices, the concubines draped over their knees. Wine flowed, men yelled, concubines cackled, it was a normal night at the barracks. Among the men, the three eldest princes of the land joined in with the loudest voices, drowned in wine, and toyed with the prettiest concubines in the centre of the room. In the corner, the youngest prince sat with a goblet of wine, watching the proceedings, and giving any concubine that came his way to a soldier. His thoughts somewhere else, he absently traced the scars on the top of his arm that had been made by the staff of the traitor vizier, then took a long draught of his wine. Suddenly spinning out the way, he narrowly avoided the soldier that had fallen into where he had been sitting a moment ago, smashing his bench and table on the way down. The crash brought the room to a standstill.

'Little brother, why do you not celebrate?' The eldest prince, Abazar, stood wavering with one foot on a bench and the other on a table. 'This is a great victory for us!' He cried, as the men roared.

'He does not care?' The second eldest prince questioned.

'I do care, Marathat, but I prefer to celebrate on my own.' The prince replied.

'Perhaps he is, once more, upset because Father didn't take him with him to conquer?' Abazar guffawed, while the men wavered between joining in and staying out of the most recent notorious family feud.

'Well, after the performance he put on in India, I'm not surprised!' Marathat roared, collapsing with laughter.

'Let me see how it went.' Abazar began, unsteadily getting off his feet and weaving slowly towards his young brother. Mimicking his brother's voice, he continued. 'Father, please let me go with you this time. I promise I will make you proud. The conquest will be over within days. Give me a chance, and I will deliver the kingdom to you.' Stopping in front of him, Abazar swayed dangerously. 'Isn't that how it went, before you decided to turn tail when you got there, and somehow convinced Father to leave India?'

'You don't understand. None of you do.' The prince spoke softly, then turned to leave.

'What don't I understand?' Abazar yelled, grabbing the prince's shirt and swinging him round to face him. 'Tell me!' He yelled into the prince's face.

The prince slowly looked up from the floor and stared into his brother's eyes with an unflinching gaze.

'Let me go.' He murmured softly. The men he commanded knew that tone, and began to back off slowly.

'Or you'll what?' His elder brother spat in his face. 'Huh, runt?' The men took a definite step back, and the other two princes looked bewildered at their behaviour, then jumped back as Abazar's senseless body flew through the air between them. Stunned, they looked back to their little brother, who stood with his hands fisted by his sides. Exhaling, he uncurled them.

'Do that, for example.' He said coolly, then finished his wine and walked out of the barracks.

It took a while for the soldiers to disperse, most of them with a whore on their arm. The young prince laid on the stable roof in the courtyard, staring up at the stars, listening to them go, and thinking.

'That was stupid, Shah.' The prince didn't even have to look down to know that the last of the brothers, Thaseem, was stood at the bottom of the stable, waiting for him.

'He asked for it, As, even you have to admit that.' Shah retorted.

'I know, but that's the way he is. Still, it was unwise. You know what a hold he has on Father.' Thaseem countered.

'I wasn't about to let it go.'

'Yes, well, maybe you should have.' Thaseem sighed. 'How in Allah's name did you get up there?' Shah grinned in the dark – no one else knew about his wall walking skills, and he intended to keep it that way.

'I climbed. Here, I'll give you a hand.' Leaning over, he outstretched his hand, and a few seconds later they were both on the roof of the stable.

'You weigh more than you look like you do.' Shah chuckled.

'Yeah, well you were a fat baby. Some of us get it later in life, is all.' Thaseem grinned. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Thaseem broke the silence.

'You were thinking about her again, weren't you?' He asked, studying his young brother's face in the dim light. Shah sighed. Thaseem was the only person he had told about Farah and the Sands, but he knew Thaseem didn't believe most of his story.

'Yes.'

'You have to stop. It's the law – the first son must be married first. It is death if you break it.' Thaseem stated quietly.

'You don't know what it's like, As. To have fought with her, seen her die, and then see her alive, in front of you, with no memory of who you are. It's torture. To know that she's alive, and that you have to leave her, the one woman you will ever love, and watch her slip beyond your grasp. It's hell.' Shah said earnestly. 'I know you don't believe me, but she was…perfect.'

'I believe you are in love, and can't reach it, and your obvious pain makes me believe you.' Thaseem sighed.

'If it's so obvious, why can't Father and Abazar and Marathat see it?' Shah grumbled.

'Because they're thick, I don't know.' Thaseem answered sarcastically. Shah looked up, surprised. 'You know Abazar and Marathat – all the brawn of Persia, and none of her brains. And Father is so befuddled by his advisors that he can't think by himself, so don't count on help from that quarter.' Shah laughed out loud, and felt his tension easing.

'Come on, young 'un.' Thaseem said, slinging an arm around Shah's shoulders. 'Let's get some sleep before the breakfast bell tolls.' Together, they jumped from the roof of the stable and made their way to their rooms as dawn broke over the rooftop of the palace.


	3. Chapter 3

By the way, I don't own the Prince of Persia characters. This is a non-profit story, written for my own amusement and the amusement of others.

Chapter 3

The guards pulled in their stomachs and straightened their spears as Farah walked past. Inside, she laughed at their attempts to look imposing and important as she passed them – she knew that it was all a front. Sure enough, once she had turned the corner, the attitude changed. Slumped against the wall, they turned back to discussing the concubines that they had slept with the night before, and the unfair treatment of the soldiers from the leaders. Giggling quietly, Farah turned and walked on.

The Maharajah of India was going over the plans for the defences of the city when his advisors began protesting loudly.

'Really, this is no place for a young woman.' The new vizier, Harilal, put out a hand to stop Farah entering the strategy room.

'Vizier, all I wish for is an audience with my father. I have an errand that I must go on, and I have to ask for his permission.' Farah replied, her eyes wide with innocence.

'Let her pass.' The Maharajah said, wearily, knowing that his daughter would not go away until she had said what she needed to. Farah stepped up before him and made the salaam.

'Yes, Farah?' Her father asked, smiling gently at her. She was a good girl, really.

'Father, as of late I have been troubled by strange dreams. I have asked the wisest in the land and they cannot explain their meaning, and I have decided that I must look somewhere else for guidance.' Farah explained. The advisors and vizier looked troubled.

'You have?' The Maharajah asked, puzzled.

'Yes father. I have decided to go to the temple of Saraswati, and pray for her wisdom.' Farah said, amid sighs of relief.

'Very well, daughter. Be sure to take an escort. You have my blessing.' Her father nodded his head, and Farah made the salaam, before backing out of the room. Once outside, she closed the doors and leaned against them. That was the hardest part over. Closing her eyes, she pictured the soldier, then took a deep breath. Opening her eyes again, she strode off towards her suite, calling for Nona as she walked.

'WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR BROTHER?' King Shahraman's voice thundered through the antechamber to the throne room. The king's rage was legendary, and at the moment it was all directed at his youngest son, who stood in front of him, staring fixedly at the floor. At his last comment, however, the prince whipped his head up.

'I gave him what he asked for!' He snapped.

'He asked for this?' Shahraman asked incredulously, indicating Abazar's black eye and swollen cheek. Shah looked away.

'Boy, if you were five years younger, I'd-'

'What? You'd what father?' Shah stared into his father's eyes. 'Send me to bed without any supper? Or perhaps ground me? It never works father – I always get out.'

The king stared back, unable to look away from the unflinching gaze of his son's startling blue eyes that were so unlike the normal Persian brown. _A trait of his mother, _the king thought ruefully_. _After a long moment, Shah released him, and Shahraman sighed.

'What am I going to do with you Shah? You aren't anything like I thought you would turn out to be. You start fights with your brothers, you shy away from battles, and yet the men love you. Why? What am I doing wrong?' Shahraman turned away, shaking his head.

'You aren't doing anything, Father.' Shah returned gently. 'This is who I am. And you will have to accept it.'

'I do accept it, son, but it is hard when you resemble your mother in so many ways.' Shahraman sighed.

'Father! What about my face? And his punishment!' Abazar exclaimed from the seat by the window.

'Oh Abazar, grow up. You've had worse in training.' The king turned on his eldest. 'Go to Salil and get some healing herbs for it. And Shah, you can do fifty laps of the courtyard and five hours of training in penitence for what you did.' Sinking into his chair, the king put his head in his hands. Abazar left in a huff, on his way to the healer, and Shah turned to go.

'I am sorry, Father.' Shah said over his shoulder before he left.

'I know son.' The old king sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

By the way, I don't own the Prince of Persia characters. This is a non-profit story, written for my own amusement and the amusement of others.

Chapter 4

Farah watched the slaves bustle about in her room, making everything ready for her journey to the temple. Seeing that Nona had it all in hand, she turned her back on it and walked out to her balcony. Leaning on the railing, she looked out towards Persia, and her thoughts began to stray again.

'_Just call me Kakolukia._'

Images of brown hair and startling blue eyes crowded into her minds eye, and she shook her head. _'I am not obsessed with him!'_ She silently yelled at herself. _'And I definitely won't be after I have been to the temple.' _

'Memsaab?' Nona's voice interrupted her reverie. Shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts, she turned.

'Yes Nona?' Nona made the salaam, then replied.

'We are ready.'

'Very good. Prepare to leave.' Nona backed away respectively, and Farah returned to her contemplation of the horizon.

Half an hour later, Farah breathed a sigh of relief when the palace began to lessen in size as her entourage pulled further away from it. She chuckled to herself quietly. Her father had seen her off with all pomp and ceremony, but had looked disapprovingly upon her choice of escort and her small entourage that consisted of Nona, two guards whom she had known since childhood, and two very trustworthy slaves. Nevertheless, she had managed to persuade him that her journey would be quick and she needed no more than this to make her pilgrimage. The fact that these five people knew her better than anyone in the world and were happy for her to do what she wanted was an added bonus.

As the palace slipped lower, she knocked on the side of her litter that was carried, strangely, between the two horses that the girl slaves rode. It immediately stopped and then was laboriously lowered to the floor. The red curtains pulled back, letting a sudden shaft of sunlight into the litter, and making Farah inadvertently squint.

'Princess?' Nona bowed.

'Are we safe?'

'Yes. You may come out. We will hide the litter and the baggage.'

'Good.' Farah said, getting out and stretching her legs. Once she was out, the soldiers dismounted, lifted the litter, and hid it in an unseen cave that was shrouded by bushes. They returned for the excess luggage that was not needed and hid that too. When they returned, they were grinning as Farah put her foot in the stirrup of the now unloaded pack horse and swung into the saddle as easily as if she had been doing it all her life. Nona looked on disapprovingly.

'If your father knew that you had had riding lessons on the sly, he wouldn't be happy.'

'Well, he isn't going to find out, is he?' Farah directed this to the entire group, who grinned and shook their heads, laughing.

'Good. Let's go!' Farah smiled, then reared her horse and galloped away, the others in hot pursuit.

It was twilight when they stopped for the last time. The group had stopped at intervals during the day to rest and water the horses, but had made very good time. Now they stood at the base of the mountain where the Temple of Saraswati rested halfway up the mountainside.

'The path is too treacherous for the horses to carry us up. I recommend that we dismount and lead them up there.' Gilas, the elder soldier spoke.

'Very well.' Farah replied. 'I hope everyone has a head for heights.' She said, slinging her bow across her shoulders and smiling wryly as she approached the path.

Two hours later, the temple loomed in front of her. Farah was breathing hard as she looked at it – the climb had been more demanding than she had anticipated. Behind her, the others were just arriving over the ledge, and were showing the same strain as she was. Nona came to stand beside her.

'So what do we do now?' She asked.

'I go in and pray, and hope for an answer.'

'Fair enough. Let's go then.' Nona started forward, but was stopped by Farah's hand on her shoulder.

'I go alone.' Nona's eyes widened.

'You can't be serious. We've done everything together, and now you are telling me that I can't go with you?' Nona's voice rose with incredulity.

'Yes.' Farah looked at her with an amused air. 'This is something that I have to do alone. Don't worry about me, just keep watch out here.' With that, she kissed Nona on the cheek, waved to the others and began to walk towards the temple.

'You can't go alone!' Nona protested. 'What if there are assassins?'

'In the temple?' Farah called over her shoulder. 'Even if there are, I can take care of myself.' Nona watched as Farah finally reached the temple and disappeared into the black interior.

'So now what?' Gilas asked. Nona turned round and began to pull some kindling out of her pack.

'We wait.'


	5. Chapter 5

Nadia Cope

Fanfictions

By the way, I don't own the Prince of Persia characters. This is a non-profit story, written for my own amusement and the amusement of others.

Chapter 5

Shah sighed as he completed his forty ninth lap. Ok, he admitted it was a stupid thing to do, but his brother had deserved it. And the punishment wasn't so bad. A bit of running and training never hurt anyone. But what did hurt was the pain in his father's eyes when he accused him of starting fights with his brothers.

_I'm sorry father. But I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand. I know I'm a disappointment to you, but I can't let my foolishness ruin so many lives. _Shah remembered his fathers look as he turned away, and his heart wrenched. _It isn't your fault, you aren't doing anything wrong. You have brought me up better than I could have hoped. You are the best father I could ask for, and that is why I refuse to ruin your life, but ruin my own. _

As the prince drew to the close of his fiftieth lap, he began to slow, eventually beginning to jog. Once he had finished, he did an extra lap of walking, just to cool his body down, then headed for the water barrel for a drink. When he got there, he splashed his face and stood up to find Thaseem watching him. Taking a long drink, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, then approached his brother, who handed him a cloth to wipe down.

'Thanks.' Shah said, wiping his brow.

'Not too bad.' Thaseem replied. 'However, you still have five hours of training to go.'

'He has not revoked that part?' Shah asked hopefully.

'You wish, little brother!' Thaseem laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders and walking towards the training yard with him as Shah groaned.

Farah made her way down the length of the temple to the shrine at the back. Kneeling, she touched her head to the floor in a gesture of reverence, then folded her hands and began to pray.

How long she remained like that, she could not tell. Her legs began to have pins and needles, and then eventually went numb. The temples temperature began to drop, and Farah started to shiver. But through all this, she remained still, praying silently, over and over, in her head.

_Great Saraswati, mother of wisdom,_

_Grant me the power to know who this man is. Why does he affect me like this? What is he to me? How are we connected? Was his story true? Did he really release the Sands? Did everything happen as he said it did? I am so confused. Please help me, all knowing Saraswati. I must know what happened. I must know…please…_

Hours passed. Farah remained, a living statue in a temple of stone. Suddenly, she heard a noise that sounded like a great wind, and she opened her eyes just in time to see fire sweep down and light the unlit torches. The temple filled with a warm dancing light that cast eerie shadows on the wall, and the shrine glinted. Farah threw herself to the floor and remained so for a few minutes, but her curiosity got the better of her. She raised her eyes, and saw in front of her someone she had only seen in the temple friezes. Before her stood Saraswati, who looked down on her with a kind, motherly face.

'You are so desperate to know, child. Why?' She smiled.

'Because no matter what I do, I cannot stop thinking about the soldier. I dream about him all the time. When I close my eyes, I can see him in my mind. I hear his voice over and over in my head. Something about him draws me for some reason, and I must know why.' Farah replied, casting her eyes demurely downwards. Saraswati turned away from her.

'Do you ever think that some things were meant to be forgotten?' she questioned.

'If this was, why can I not?' Farah replied question for question, and looked up to meet Saraswati's eyes. Saraswati held her gaze, and after a few tense minutes, sighed.

'The man you seek resides in his homeland, in the city of Babylon. I cannot help you child. You must learn the answers for yourself, but beware, some things that have been forgotten are best left forgotten.'

'I am willing to pay the price.' Farah said, bowing low.

'Then seek out your mysterious soldier. He will answer your questions, and put your mind at rest.' Farah bowed low, her head touching the floor, and sigh filled the temple. Farah felt the warmth of the temple fires leave her, and she knew she was alone. She stood slowly, stretching her aching legs and left the temple, her numbed muscles protesting every step.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hey guys, sorry its been soooooo long, but I have been super busy recently. That, coupled with writer's block, has really slowed me down. Anyway, here is the long awaited sixth chapter - hope you like it. I've got back into my writing, so hopefully there shouldn't be a long time between them anymore. Please R&R, it makes it so much easier to write when I know people like my work!**

Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Persia, the characters, or anything else. Boo :( If I did, I would be a millionaire...

Chapter 6

Nona was worried. Well, she was always worried, but now even more so than usual. Farah had been many hours in the temple, and had eventually emerged white as a sheet under her tanned skin. Without a word, she had drunk from the waterskin, then began packing up the makeshift camp. Only when Nona took her hands and led her to her waiting bed roll did she finally recognise the familiar faces around her, and give a weak smile. Nona raised her eyebrows.

"Farah?"

"I'm alright Nona, I just..." Farah closed her eyes briefly. "I just need to sleep a little, and think." Nona nodded, and Farah laid her head on her pillow and watched the flickering fire. Uneasily, the others resumed their places around the fire and kept watch as her eyes gently closed.

The prince was the envy of all the soldiers of the barracks. Nimbly stepping from post to post, he avoided blows from his opponents ten feet up in the air, somersaulting over staffs and landing with pinpoint accuracy. Thaseem watched his younger brother with pride, remembering the weakling child that he had once beaten with a single hand. He didn't think he could do the same now.

"He is an excellent warrior." The voice of their father reached his ears, and Thaseem turned with half a bow to acknowledge his liege lords presence.

"He pushes himself too far, Father."

"Nonsense. Shah knows his limits. And yet, before India he was a tolerable soldier, with no special strength, but in the space of a night, he became a formidable opponent. Curious, is it not?"

"Indeed sir, but perhaps Shah was merely holding his strength back, and wanted to prove it another time?" King Shahraman slid a look sideways at his third son.

"Perhaps. You are wise Thaseem, wiser than you elder brothers. Yes, you will do well." Shahraman clapped a hand to his sons shoulder and moved forward into the training court. "Enough!" Activity ceased as all present bowed. "Let the Prince of Persia test his skills against his king."

Shah gained the courtyard floor, and caught the sword Thaseem threw to him. Shahraman grinned, and the men roared as the battle commenced.

Farah woke to Nona gently shaking her shoulder. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw signs of the camp being packed away, and after taking a short drink from the waterskin, the party descended to the flats, mounted up, and rode back to the litter and the hidden items.

In the cool interior of her enforced litter, Farah finally had time to think. She knew what she had to do, but how to make it happen was eluding her. She must visit Persia. There was no other way. And in order to find the soldier, it would have to be a state visit, so that she could inspect the troops and find him. But how to explain all this to her father? Her father, who was already so suspicious of anything the Persians did, and worse still, the council. She highly doubted that they would take kindly to the idea of their only princess, the one and only heir to the throne of India, willingly walking into a hostile country. Her mind churned as she tried to devise a way of convincing them, fleetingly touching on telling them the truth and instantly discarding the idea. Diplomacy was called for, in more ways than one. She must convince the Council that peace was the only way forward with Persia, not war, and there was only one way to do that. She shuddered to think of it, but marriage to a Persian Prince seemed the only sure way for peace.

Trumpets blared outside, startling her from her reverie, and the litter was gently lowered. Steeling herself mentally, Farah took the hand that was offered her as she stepped out of the litter and into her father's waiting arms.

"Daughter." Her father held her close. "I am glad you are safe. Did you find your answers?"

"I did father."

"That is well then. Come, I am hungry, and you look tired. We shall dine, and then you shall rest."

"Yes father." Farah smiled as her father led the way, and Nona followed quietly behind.

Two hours later, Farah finally tumbled into bed. Her mind exhausted by the challenge of making small talk when other things were more pressing had wearied her physically and mentally. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind strayed to her mysterious soldier, and a smile flitted across her face as the welcome dream claimed her.

King Shahraman may have thirty years of experience on his youngest son, but Shah could easily hold his own. The King's blade flashed as it sliced through the air where minutes ago his son's throat had been. In a split second, the blade turned and sliced down, forcing the prince to roll away from his opponent. Gaining his feet again, the agile young man slammed a foot against the nearby wall and pushed off, diving through the air tucking himself into a roll to gain more space. Dancing in again, the steel blades rang sweetly in the fading light, each fighter matching the others moves perfectly. Shahraman thrust forward, and the prince spun past it, turning towards the king and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. With his free hand, he pressed his blade to the kings throat. The king froze, a smirk slowly spreading across his features.

"My match, my lord." Shah panted.

"Perhaps it is." The king replied, then, jerking his head back, he caused Shah to lose his grip momentarily, and swept Shah's legs out in a move that defied his age. Thrusting his sword point at Shah's throat, the king grinned. "Then again, perhaps not." Shah, his back to the ground, grinned and took the kings outstretched hand. Clasping wrists in the warrior style, they pair laughed as cheers erupted around the courtyard.

"Penance paid. Don't annoy your brother again." The king said, his eyes twinkling and his face flushed from exertion.

"Yes father." Shah laughed as Thaseem handed them water. "I almost had you there you know."

"Yes, you did. But age and experience will always best youth and arrogance my son, remember that."

"Yes father." Laughed the prince as they went their separate ways to their chambers.

The sun was just breaking dawn when Farah opened her eyes. Restless, she paced her chamber in her nightgown, her thoughts whirring frantically. Nona's presence soothed her only slightly, and as she slipped beneath the waters of her bath, she tried to let her mind wander.

"_It's so peaceful here..."her voice echoed around the stone room, seemingly coming from all entrances, as the soldier's footsteps ran from room to room._

"_Farah!" The soldier's voice called, trying to locate her in the dim chamber._

"_Can't we just stay here, forever?" She asked lazily, the water sliding from her almond skin in tiny rivulets. The soldier, finding the right entrance, paused with his foot resting on the edge of the bath. Farah smiled at him coquettishly. With a smirk, the soldier stripped himself of his weapons and clothes, then slid gracefully into the warm water, reaching for her..._

Farah surfaced, gasping, her body flushing red with the sudden, uninvited memory.

"Well, if you will stay under longer than necessary." Nona chided her gently. Farah grinned ruefully, thankful that she couldn't see into her mind. "Are you going to get dressed soon?"

"I'm coming. I think the cream and gold today please."

"Oooh, something special happening?"

"I'm either victorious, or signing my death warrant." Farah sighed. Nona looked at her puzzled, then shrugged her shoulders and went to fetch the required garments. Farah dried herself off on her way to her chamber, then sat in front of her mirror. Five girls appeared, and began the daily ritual of dressing her. One girl twisted her hair into elegant knots, pinning it in place with ornate gold pins, and draping a tikka on her forehead. Golden earrings accentuated her face, and a bindi was placed below the tikka. On each foot and hand, a girl carefully painted her nails demure cream, then adorned her with bangles and rings. Finally, Nona came forward with her sari of choice. The cream choli was simple, and accentuated with tasteful gold trimming. The petticoat was also simple, and matched the choli perfectly. The sari itself was heavy with gold threads, but simple in its design, edged in gold with small gold flowers hand stitched into the body of the material. Carefully, the girls dressed their princess, paying attention to the particular folds and drapes of the material until finally, Farah was ready. Breathing in a deep breath, she left her chamber, the girls her entourage, making their way through the palace until she stood in front of the doors she was not allowed to enter. Fearfully, the girls glanced at one another, but did not question their mistress. Nona caught Farah's eye, and Farah nodded almost imperceptibly.

Placing her hands on the two huge doors, Farah pushed them open, and strode fearlessly into the Council chambers.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

**AN: Finally, the new chapter is up! So sorry to all my fans - writers block is a nightare. Hopefully though there should be much more coming, including new fanfics and updates to Biker Mice fanfics! Thanks to everyone for sticking with me, you are true angels! Much love to .**

Chapter 7

A moment of silence, a heartbeat passed, and the council chambers exploded into chaos. Male voices clamoured in anger at the audacity of a mere woman walking into the sacred chambers where only men were permitted. Roaring in disbelief, they insisted on punishments that ranged from public flagellation to beheading at the blatant disregard for the ancient laws by which they lived.

Through it all, Farah held her head high. Her eyes fixed on the form at the end of the Council chamber, she ignored the calls for her death and proceeded to the base of her father's raised dais, lowered herself gracefully to the floor and prostrated herself in front of her king. She held the position as the voices swirled around her like coiling smoke, her face to the floor and her arms outstretched in supplication to her liege. Above her, the Maharajah of India finally managed to smooth his shocked expression into a mask of calm bemusement, sighed in exasperation, and raised his hand. At his request, the Vizier by his side lifted his ceremonial staff and forcefully brought it down on the cold marble floor. The room quietened instantly, and the glowering lords of the council re-seated themselves expectantly.

'Daughter.' The Maharajah's voice was strong, his frustration hidden carefully. 'You flout our laws. Why do you do such disrespect to your elders?' Farah raised herself to a kneeling position, her eyes downcast.

'My honourable father. I have returned from my pilgrimage to the temple of Saraswati, and I have been blessed by her guidance. There is business of the utmost importance that I must discuss with yourself and the revered members of the council that could not wait.'

'Outrageous!' Agni Jain burst out, getting to his feet. 'This woman' he sneered 'has no business in the council chambers. She should be hanged for her insolence!' A chorus of cheers broke out in support from his followers. The Maharajah knew them well; they were his most insistent troublemakers.

'You dare to threaten the Princess?' Ranjeet Sharma stood quickly, his eyes blazing. 'She of the blood? Remember that you are not only addressing a princess, you are addressing your future queen!'

'She will never be queen until she is wed! I will not bow to a Maharani who is only fit for bearing brats!' The council chambers erupted once more, Jain's supporters shouting against Sharma's, and the Maharajah rubbed a hand over his chin tiredly.

'ENOUGH!' He thundered, his eyes blazing. The council chambers were silent immediately. 'Sit down, all of you!' The council sat, Agni Jain looking mutinous. The king glared at him, daring him to speak. 'I would hear what _my daughter_ will say.' He turned back to her, still sat demurely at his feet. 'Daughter. Speak your thoughts.' Farah raised her eyes to his and took a deep breath. Getting to her feet, she addressed the council.

'Honoured council, it was not long ago that a great force of the known world arrived on our doorstep and threatened us with invasion. Our brave men readied for war, poised to strike. But, it was not needed. The army withdrew, with no reason and no warning. They left us, untouched, and returned to their homeland in peace. It has long been preying on my mind, and I know on yours, that this is not the end. I have been among the people. I know what they fear, and I know you feel it also. What if this is a strategy to lure us into false hope? What if this is a ploy to invade when we least expect it? What if they are only softening us for the final blow?' Farah slowly paced down the length of the room, connecting with every man as she walked by them. 'The people are leaving the city, and it is quiet as the calm before the sandstorm. The city is ill at ease my lords, and we must rectify it. I propose that an ambassador is sent to the court of Babylon, thus calming our own citizens, strengthening our ties to Babylon in friendship, rather than war, and perhaps gaining an answer as to the strange behaviour of the Persians.' Farah held her father's gaze across the hall and held her breath. The Maharajah stared back impassively, his mind churning. _Where did she pick up such a talent for politics? _He mused to himself. Gesturing, he turned his attention to the council.

'Lord Sharma? Think you kindly on this?' Ranjeet bowed his head to the Maharajah briefly, his arms folded and a pensieve look on his handsome features.

'I feel the Princess's plan has merit, my king. It would indeed give us an idea into the Persian's motives, and would provide us with valuable insight into the heart of Babylon if things do not go according to plan. If they do, we have gained stronger ties with a powerful ally. We would be at the side of the lion, as opposed to in his path.' The high lord of the council nodded.

'I take it you have plans as to the identity of the ambassador?'

'Who better than our own Princess? It would be a mark of respect to the Persians that we send such a figurehead for our kingdom, as well as a sign of our trust in them to protect our precious jewel.' Ranjeet caught Farah's twinkling eyes and looked away, stifling a laugh as a cough. The Maharajah frowned gently, uncomfortable with the idea. Farah stepped towards him slowly.

'My esteemed father, I will not disappoint you. I assure you, all necessary precautions shall be taken, and I will ensure that my court will behave as befits our noble kingdom.' Her father's brow cleared, and Farah knew it had worked.

'Make preparations for a state visit. Daughter, choose your court wisely. You will be my vessel on this journey, and must conduct yourself and your court in the manner that I would approve of. Go, with the grace of all the gods.' Farah bowed low, her hands pressed together.

'You are gracious and wise my lord Father.' She backed out of the council chamber, waiting until the doors were closed before she straightened. Behind the door, the arguments were starting again. Farah smoothed out her sari unconsciously as Nona approached her. Farah nodded curtly, and Nona bowed low to her, then hurried off to make the preparations.

The city was bustling, and crowds lined the streets as Farah descended the steps of the palace. It had taken a week to make ready, and it would take another four days to reach Babylon. The carts that made up the train were loaded with rich Indian spices and gifts for the Persian king, Sharaman. Farah herself would be travelling in a gilded litter, as was customary for a state official, although she detested the thought. Nona would be walking beside her, ready to serve if she was needed. Casting an appraising eye over the caravan, Farah smiled in approval. Nona's organisational skills were unmatched, and she had done Farah proud. Ranjeet Sharma arrived at her side.

'I hope you know what you are doing, Farah.' He murmured out of the corner of his mouth. Farah smiled faintly at her long time friend.

'I do. But thankyou for your concern.'

'You realise you might not return from this?'

'I will return, I promise. You should not be so negative, I will be perfectly safe with my court.' Farah paused and looked at him. 'I didn't thank you for your help in the council chambers. Please, forgive me and accept my sincere thanks for all your help.' Ranjeet smiled down at her.

'You are forgiven. Just let me know as soon as you get there that you are safe and well, or I will send out the full fighting force of India to bring you back, mischief.' Farah's answering smile dazzled him as she turned to her father, who was descending the steps with his closest councillors, and bowed to them, her hands pressed together. Her father stepped forward and gathered her into a hug.

'Be safe, my little princess.' He murmured in her ear, and Farah closed her eyes as she held him tightly.

'I shall Papa.' Farah whispered back, her eyes slightly moist. She stepped back from him, and her chosen court stopped their activities and turned to face their king as the city quietened.

'Go with the protection of all the gods, and the blessing of my kingdom.' Her father's voice carried across the quiet people. 'May your journey be safe and fruitful.' Farah bowed low in response, the waiting court mirroring her actions. Nona appeared at her side with a male slave, and they escorted her down the steps to her litter. Taking her hand, the slave assisted her in, and the crowd erupted in cheers. With a jerk, Farah was lifted onto the shoulders of four strong men, and the caravan began to move through the city. With the curtains drawn back, Farah waved languidly to her people as they cheered and threw flowers on her path, and only once they were outside the city did she close the curtains and fall back on her mountain of cushions to try to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 8

The Prince sighed inaudibly as he sank into the water. The heat soothed his protesting muscles and aching legs, and he leaned his head back against the edge. Closing his eyes, he remembered another bath, long ago, with a supple young woman, and his gut twisted in a familiar longing. He opened his eyes and rolled his eyes, then ducked under the water and swam a few strokes, emerging at the other end of the long pool. Shaking his wet hair from his eyes, he noticed the slave waiting patiently for him and growled under his breath.

'What is it?' He demanded, his even mood completely gone.

'My prince, the king desires your presence in the Strategy Room.' The prince raised his eyebrows.

'I will be there soon.' He swam a few more lengths, then heaved himself out of the pool and got dressed. With quick, purposeful strides, he made his way through the palace and stopped to knock at the required door.

'Come.' The kings voice rumbled from beyond the door, and the prince entered the room. His father looked thoughtful, sitting at the head of a large mahogany table. His brothers sat on either side, along with the Vizier, and the prince took the last seat, facing his father across the long table. The King held a long wooden pole in his hand, topped with a flat piece of wood, and scattered across the table in various positions were carved figures, denoting the location of various troops and borders. The map was embossed into the leather top of the table, showing the Persian Empire and its bordering countries, and a few beyond them that had been gleaned from various reports. The king raised his gaze and met his son's eyes. 'Shah. We have reports that Caucasus has attacked our northern border. What would be your course of action?' Shah leant forward, his elbows on the table and his expression thoughtful.

'I would send scouts to assess the situation, no more than three as we don't want to raise suspicion. Then, depending on the report, send a battalion to reason with them, forcefully.'

'Absolutely not!' Abazar burst out. 'Father, why waste time with scouts when we should march over there and show them Persia's might? These fools have dared to attack us, and we must teach them that they cannot take such liberties!'

'I agree with Abazar, Father.' Marathat spoke forcefully. '_What a surprise' _thought the youngest prince with a sneer. 'Persia is a strong empire – we must show that she will not tolerate insubordination.'

'That is a stupid idea.' Shah countered. 'Force is not always the way to do things Father. We all know that Caucasus is struggling in the grip of a drought. They are probably hungry and trying to-'

'Trying to steal from Persia, from us! Your mind is as soft as your unused manhood, little brother!' Abazar sneered. 'You have no spine for ruling an empire, why are you even bothering asking him?' He asked his father, gesticulating hopelessly.

'Oh, real mature Abazar, got anything else from the archives you can throw at me?' Shah snarled, his temper rising.

'Enough!' The king stood quickly, scraping his chair against the marble floor, and the princes turned to him. 'I will have no more of this bickering. Thaseem, thoughts?' Thaseem leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, one hand rubbing his chin as he always did when he was thinking hard.

'I believe both my brothers have a point. I would-'

'My lord!' Thaseem was interrupted as a soldier burst through the doors and bowed low, his chest heaving.

'Easy man, get your breath back.' The king soothed, waving his hand to the guards who had followed him through and sending them back to their posts. The soldier braced his hands on his knees and sucked in large gasps of air. When his heart rate returned to a better level, he straightened up, then bowed again. 'Now, what is the meaning of your intrusion?' The princes watched him with interest.

'My king. My unit and I were scouting the Eastern border, and have spotted a large caravan approaching. In the time it took us to return to Babylon, they will have reached Persepolis.'

'Military?' The king asked sharply.

'Not that we could see sire. It looked to be a delegation, from India by the banners they were flying.' Shah's heart hammered in his chest, and his eyes flickered to Thaseem. His brother glanced at him, and realisation crossed his face as his thoughts fell in line with Shah's.

'Thankyou. Go to the barracks, get yourself cleaned up and fed. Well done, this is useful information.' The soldier bowed and retreated out of the room, the doors closing in front of him. The king turned to the Vizier and his sons. 'And now we have a new problem. Thoughts, anyone?'

'My king, this may perhaps be a blessing in disguise.' The Vizier spoke softly, his melodic voice humming through the room. 'Our previous attempt in India was thwarted, and this may be an opportunity to add another jewel to the crown, this time without bloodshed.'

'An alliance?' Abazar scoffed. 'That is not Persia's way.'

'Perhaps not.' Thaseem mused. 'But even you, Abazar, must admit that Persia has been stagnating. We have not expanded our borders for nearly two years sire, and that is not for want of trying. Perhaps it is time for a new tactic. An allied country, as opposed to a conquered country, can provide us with more options.' Shah kept silent, his mind churning, and the king absent-mindedly watched him as he thought. A smile slowly formed across his youngest son's face, and the king became intrigued.

'Shah, your thoughts?' The prince jumped slightly, and Thaseem snickered softly, earning himself a glare from his brother. Sharaman watched as his son finally answered.

'Welcome the delegation. As the Vizier has said, this could be a blessing in disguise. Meanwhile, send a contingent to our northern border to reinforce our men up there and settle the border dispute.' The king nodded his appreciation.

'Father, allow me to lead the troops.' Abazar thumped his fist on the table. 'I will see that the battle is short.'

'No.' The king's voice brooked no argument. 'We are needed to welcome the delegation. I will not send you away when we have a diplomatic situation arising.'

'But Father-'

'I have spoken.' Sharaman glared at his eldest. 'You will not fight me on this, Abazar. You may be my first born, but you must learn that politics can win a battle before a sword has been raised.' Abazar cast his eyes downward, a mutinous look on his Persian features. Shah watched quietly, trying to keep his features composed as the king rubbed his face tiredly. 'Vizier. Make sure that the palace is in order to receive the delegate. Spare no expense. We need a show of our finest soldiers, but not so much to be threatening. Abazar, Marathat, you will choose and arm the contingent to go to the north. Thaseem, Shah, you shall deal with the security of the vault, the armoury, and our guests. Enough to dissuade problems developing, but not enough to make them uncomfortable. Dismissed.' The table stood and bowed, holding their positions as their liege left, his Vizier in tow. Abazar smirked.

'Security Shah? Try not to get too bored.' He left chuckling, Marathat on his heels. Thaseem made a rude gesture at his departing back, and turned to his little brother.

'Shah, you ok?' The youngest prince nodded.

'I'm not sure this is a good idea after all. What if Farah is amongst the delegation? What do I do?'

'Little brother, I never figured you for one with nerves!' Thaseem chortled.

'I'm serious As! I can't stop thinking about her as it is, and now she might walk right into my lap? Allah has a twisted sense of humour.' The prince ran his hands through his hair and slumped back into his chair. Thaseem took pity on him and leant against the table, crossing his feet.

'Whoever comes with that caravan, you cannot interfere with, you know that. It is a diplomatic, and dare I say it, daring strategy. Whoever is orchestrating it is a very clever opponent, and we have to step extra carefully. If she is in the caravan, you cannot touch her, you understand? Despite the fact that she would be a guest, if anything were to happen, with you a prince and she a princess, the scandal would ruin Father, and damage the empire's stability.' Thaseem watched him, making sure that his brother was listening. Finally, Shah nodded and stood up. Sighing, he fixed a rakish grin on his face and spread his hands.

'Lets go talk security!' He grinned, slinging an arm around Thaseem's shoulders, and together the two princes went in search of the palace guard captain.

**Read and review people, share the love!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry it's taken so long guys, it's been a madhouse here! Thanks for your patience and reviews, I love reading them so please feel free to write more!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 9

There was a slight breath of wind, but not enough to cool the day. The king stood, flanked by his sons, on a shaded dais at the base of the palace steps. Crowds had lined the streets to welcome the caravan, cheering as it slowly processed towards the centre. Shah fidgeted, his heavy robes of state itching as they clung to his heated neck. Thaseem glanced across at him and smiled wanly, a sheen of perspiration on his brow. None of the princes were used to wearing the heavily patterned silks, and were more suited to battle garb than diplomatic dress.

King Sharaman cleared his throat loudly, shooting pointed looks at his four restless sons. The princes stilled as the procession finally gained the courtyard and feigned indifference. Wagons rumbled past, arranging themselves around the space, horses prancing and harnesses jingling. Finally, a golden litter made its way through the arch, its rich red curtains swaying with each movement. A slave girl walked by its side, her head bowed in reverence to their hosts. Feigned indifference gave way to curiosity as the Persian princes watched the four eunuchs lower the litter to the floor as gracefully as possible, while the slave girl made the salaam then grasped the curtains. Shah flicked his eyes to find Thaseem watching him closely. Taking a deep breath, Shah turned his gaze to the opening curtains and watched intently.

Two long, slender, brown legs appeared, jingling with gold anklets. Henna patterns graced the top of the feet, and ivory wisps of fabric slid across toned calf muscles. Shah sucked in a breath, and Thaseem observed his younger brothers face as it lit up and life came to his eyes. Entranced by the woman who was appearing before him, Shah felt as though the world slipped away as the woman he could not forget stood before him. Her hair was dark as a raven's wing, her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and her tall slim frame moved sinuously beneath swathes of ivory silk. She was just as he remembered her, and he stared at her unabashedly, drinking in every facet of her. Golden bangles glittered on her wrists, and a tikka draped delicately across her forehead, framing her bindi. Henna designs wove complicated patterns across her palms, and her sari flowed like ivory water. Her eyes downcast, she held the hand of her slave as she was led forward to the dais, as King Shahraman stepped down towards her.

'My lady, Princess Farah of India, greets the most mighty of kings, Shahraman of Persia.' The slave intoned, her eyes downcast. Shahraman raised his eyebrows – it was not customary for a handmaiden to make the introductions, but neither was it customary for the ambassador to be female. He held out his hands.

'Princess Farah, I bid you welcome to Babylon. It brings me great pleasure to see you safely here.' The Princess raised her head and fixed her gaze upon the king, searching his face briefly. A warm smile graced her features, and the old king felt heat flush through him unexpectedly. The princess placed her hands in his and touched her head to their conjoined hands in the ritual greeting. Straightening, she smiled at him once more.

'King Shahraman.' She murmured demurely. Her voice was musical and light, and very pleasant to the ear. 'I thank you for your welcome. I look forward to seeing more of your beautiful city.' King Shahraman beamed with pride.

'If you think it is beautiful, then we will get on swimmingly.' He laughed, and Farah grinned, her face lighting up. This king was not as frightening as she thought he would be, and she found herself enjoying his company.

'I'm sure we will my lord.' Shahraman gestured, and Farah stepped forward.

'Allow me to introduce my sons. The Crown Prince of the Persian Empire, my first born, Prince Abazar. Second among my sons, Prince Marathat, my third, Prince Thaseem, and my youngest, Prince Shah.' One by one, the princes stepped forward and inclined their head to the princess, who nodded to them in return. When it came to the last prince, he stepped forward with his head bowed, bowed slightly, and straightened slowly. Farah inclined her head, smiling, and froze as their gazes locked. She knew those eyes anywhere, and she saw recognition in his eyes also. Nona, watching from under her eyebrows, stepped forward slightly and nudged her, and Farah turned her attention to the king, who was speaking again

'-get you settled in and tonight, we shall have a banquet in your honour. I have had the finest suite of rooms prepared for you, I hope they will be to your satisfaction. Please, this way Princess.' Farah smiled gently at the enthusiastic king.

'I'm sure they will sire.' With a last quick glance at the youngest prince, she took the kings offered hand and began up the steps into the palace, the princes following behind. As she walked, Farah looked around her with interest, noting the opulent style of the palace. Rich fabrics and complicated patterns were tempered by large spaces and neutral stone walls, and although the wealth of the family was evident in the quality of the palace, the overall effect was not as suffocating as she originally thought it would be. The splendour of the rooms was unmistakeable, and she was in awe of the intricately carved ceilings and balustrades.

Shah followed behind, keeping pace with Thaseem. He was aware of every move she made, his body fine tuned to her slightest reaction. He smiled as he observed her obvious pleasure in her surroundings, listening as she asked intelligent questions about the history of the palace and eagerly lapping up the information. The conversation flowed easily between herself and the king, and Shah proudly as the king became more and more impressed by the beautiful young woman. Thaseem watched with interest as his younger brother watched the princess like a hawk.

'Pick your tongue up, it's dragging on the floor.' He murmured, smirking. Shah glanced at him and grinned apologetically, then cleared his throat quietly. Thaseem shook his head. 'Don't worry, you aren't the only one. Abazar can't stop staring either.' Shah's eyes widened in surprise, and he stared at his elder brothers. Abazar all but had his tongue out, staring at Farah's swaying hips. Shah growled as he imagined what was going through his brothers mind. He had seen what Abazar had done to whores, and he shuddered to think what he might do to Farah. Marathat walked quietly by Abazar's side, seemingly unaffected by Farah's prescence. Shah turned his attention to his elder brother and eyed him critically, trying to dampen down the jealous flame that burned in his gut. The party reached the throne room, and the King turned to his guest.

'Forgive me Princess, but there are matters that I must attend to, I'm sure you understand.' Farah smiled at the kindly old king.

'Of course sire, please, I do not wish to be a burden.'

'I shall entrust you to Abazar's care. He shall escort you to your chambers so that you may be settled in.' Abazar stepped forward, a malicious greed glinting in his eye, and Farah fought to control a sudden surge of panic that inexplicably washed over her.

'Sire!' Farah exclaimed, her voice struggling to maintain it's calm tone. She cleared her throat and continued. 'I am sure that Prince Abazar will be needed also. As the Crown Prince, I am sure he is instrumental in the running of your great empire.' She fluttered her eyelashes at the eldest prince who, as she suspected, immediately puffed himself up like a peacock. Shah, watching next to Thaseem, snickered and rolled his eyes. Farah caught his eye, her glance full of amusement.

'I would gladly forgo it for you Princess.' Abazar boomed, his gentlemanly words nullified by the lecherous look on his face and the volume of his voice. He stepped towards her, and Farah was hard pressed not to take a step away from him.

'Nonetheless my Prince, I could not tear you from the Kings side when he so obviously relies on you.' She smiled coyly, praying this would work. 'Might I suggest that Prince Shah escorts me, as I'm sure he is less indispensible than the Crown Prince?' Abazar whirled to face Shah, who tried to keep the amusement from his face as he bowed before the princess.

'I would be happy to, if that is the Princess's wish Father.' Abazar glared at his brother, then turned to his father.

'Father, I am more than capable of attending you once the Princess is safe.' He spluttered as his father deliberated. The King's eyes flickered from one son to the other, one calmly waiting, the other red faced and full of self importance.

'You are wise beyond your years, Princess. I do indeed need Abazar at my side. Shah will accompany you, as you suggest.' The King nodded to his youngest, who bowed to the Princess.

'I am yours to command, Princess.' He smiled as he held out his hand. The Princess smiled, her panic subsiding, and took his hand as they walked down the corridor, leaving the three princes and their father alone. Abazar turned on his father, anger seeping out of every pore.

'Father, this is an outrage! I am perfectly capable-'

'Enough!' The king bellowed. Abazar narrowed his eyes, but shut his mouth. 'You will listen to me, and listen well. This visit may go well for us, but I cannot have you losing your temper like that in front of the Princess. You will control it, or I will ban you from my prescence until the visit is over. Understand?' The king turned and slammed his hands against the council chamber doors, pushing them open with force and strode through them, leaving his sons outside. Thaseem and Marathat exchanged a look as Abazar's chest heaved, then strode in after his father, his face red.

'This will not end well brother.' Marathat commented in a worried tone.

'No brother, I fear it will not.' Thaseem agreed, and together they followed their father.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me. Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 10

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled, her body hyper aware of the space between them. The Prince walked comfortably by her side, his lean muscles lending him a subtle grace in his walk. After a few moments of walking in silence, the Prince cleared his throat nervously.

'Your journey…it was…uneventful?' _Great_ thought the Prince. _How feeble. _Farah's gaze flickered to him, and she smiled slightly.

'It was, I thank you.'

'Well you were well protected I see. Your guard is well trained.' _Talking to her about battle training…great idea! _The prince thought angrily.

'They are. The best in all of India.' Farah answered.

'You are very lucky to have such faithful protection.' Farah stopped, bringing the Prince up short, and fixed him with a hard look.

'You assume me to be some delicate desert flower? I assure you Prince, I am nothing of the kind.' _There's the Farah I know. _

'Trust me Princess, when it comes to you, I assume nothing. By your look, I would guess that you are very skilled in the use of a bow, and are a more than competent rider. Am I correct?' Farah narrowed her eyes for a moment, scrutinizing him, and began walking again.

'You seem to know more about me than I do about you, my Prince.' Shah grinned, then quickly stifled it as she glanced at him curiously.

'I'm sure we will be able to rectify that in the future, Princess.' They had reached her suite, and Shah took her hand to guide her in. Farah shivered as the contact sent warm thrills through her, and her cheeks flushed crimson as his thumb absent-mindedly rubbed over her knuckles. 'Will your rooms be sufficient?' Shah's eyes smouldered as he stared at her, transfixed by her slightly open lips as she breathed heavily. Farah's mouth went dry as her heart beat faster, and she felt her knees weaken. Tearing her gaze away, she had a quick cursory look around to try and strengthen her resolve again.

'These will be perfect, thank you Prince Shah.' She turned to Nona, waiting patiently in the doorway with the other girls. 'Inform the caravan of my location and bring my things here.' The girls bowed, their hands together, and left quietly. The Prince made to leave also, but Farah reached the door first and pushed it closed. Shah stopped abruptly and quirked an eyebrow. 'Drop the tall, dark, and ignorant act Prince.' Farah crossed her arms. 'I know you know me more than you are letting on.'

'I have no idea what you are talking about Princess.' The prince leaned against her table, picked up an apple and began tossing it from hand to hand. Farah glared, and Shah bit back a chuckle.

'You appeared on my balcony over four months ago, armed with a dagger that by rights, you shouldn't know anything about, accused and killed my father's traitor with no warning, and convinced an entire army to leave our borders and never return. You owe me an explanation.' Her tone brooked no argument. Shah sighed dramatically.

'Princess, I would have thought you would be thanking me, not yelling at me.'

'You haven't seen me yelling at you yet Prince, believe me, it's a lot worse than this. Now, talk.'

'And here I thought you were polite and princess-like. No gratitude? Tut tut tut.'

'Thank you. Talk.' Shah grinned, infuriating her even more. 'Fine. Then perhaps you can explain how you knew such a personal word to me.'

'And what word would that be Princess?' His tone sounded bored.

'Kakolukia.' Bingo. The Prince caught the apple and froze, and Farah watched as his eyes softened slightly. In a trice, the apple was moving again.

'That's a stupid word. It doesn't mean anything.' Farah reached out and snatched the apple from the air between his hands, and the Prince snapped his gaze to hers.

'Liar.' She said softly, tilting her face to watch his eyes. Shah stared into her chocolate brown eyes, willing himself to look away, and found he couldn't. His hands shot out and grabbed her arms, dragging her against him, and Farah' eyes widened in shock briefly as his lips came crashing down on hers. She stiffened, then relaxed against him as she raised her hands to his back. She moaned as her fingers skimmed over his muscles, and the Prince took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth, eagerly sweeping across her tongue and tasting her. Farah felt electric shocks chase through her body, and she clung to him as her head swam with the raw need that coursed through her.

The door opened, and the Prince abruptly pushed her away. Breathing heavily, Farah tried to focus her eyes on a shocked Nona, who stood in the entrance taking in the flushed faces and heaving chests of both the rooms occupants. The Prince gathered his wits first, and bowed to the Princess.

'I will leave you now Princess. I hope you will be comfortable here, and I look forward to the feast tonight.' Farah nodded, her chest still heaving, and the Prince left. Nona closed the door behind him, and faced her friend with her hands on her hips and a glare on her face.

'I'm in trouble.' Farah groaned, and flopped backwards onto the bed.

Shah walked down the corridor feeling like he was walking on air. _She kissed me back!_ He allowed himself a grin of self satisfaction as he made his way to the Strategy Room, his mind filling with the possibilities that were open to him. Thaseem's words floated around him, ruining his daydreams. _The first son must be married first. _Shah scowled as he remembered Abazar's expression as he stared at Farah – greedy, hungry, almost animalistic. His footsteps slowed, then stopped as he remembered how warm Farah had been, how soft and pliable as she moulded herself to him. Her reactions were so incredible, and when she moaned he had answered, his need and desire raging through him like a sandstorm. Her lithe body had pressed against him, and even through his heavy robes he was aware of every place they touched. He thought of Abazar touching her, and his blood boiled with rage. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, and he growled angrily. _It will NOT happen!_

The throne room was filled with people, and the noise was deafening. Laughter and chatter floated on the air as the food and drink appeared in endless streams. Slaves busied themselves filling goblets and bringing out platters of food, and harem girls danced in the centre, their swirling chiffon skirts and glittering threads going relatively unnoticed. At the top table, King Shahraman laughed loudly, the visiting Princess joining him on his right hand side. On his left, the eldest son busied himself with his food and leered at the harem girls lecherously. Farah watched his antics discreetly, and shuddered. _What a pig. Fit for battles and whoring, and nothing else._ The king leaned over to her.

'And so my dear, shall we address the real reason for your visit?' Farah turned to him, smiling to cover her sudden nervousness.

'The real reason sire? What are you referring to?'

'Don't play innocent Princess. You have come to discuss the events at your borders, and our lack of an attack, am I correct?' Farah sighed inwardly, relieved.

'I must confess sire, I am intrigued as to why you chose to leave instead of invade.' She leaned forward, her interest piqued.

'Love.' The king stated simply, and drank deeply from his goblet. Farah waited, confusion on her face. The king watched the festivities for a moment, then turned to her and chuckled. 'I am not heartless, Princess. As you see, I have four sons. I love them all deeply. Some,' he looked over to Shah, who sat just past Abazar and was talking with a council member 'more than others. The morning of the proposed attack on your borders, my youngest son came to me. He was a proven warrior, and wanted to make me proud. His mother had been my favourite wife, and I had always been protective of him, but I took him because I loved him. That morning, he begged me to reconsider my attack. He told me he had changed, that he had grown up and matured, and that the attack of India would be the worst decision I could make. He was willing to protect India so much, he offered his exile in return for the safekeeping of your country.' The king drank some more, and Farah gazed at the Prince, a new respect for him glimmering inside her. Oblivious, the king continued. 'Perhaps it was his tenacity, or perhaps it was just an old man being a fool, but I granted his wish. I received word throughout the morning that our traitor in your midst, your father's vizier, had been found dead, and I realised that my son had spoken the truth – it would have been foolish without our inside man. In the weeks that followed our return to Babylon, there was a change in him. He was no longer as carefree as he used to be, and he often has a faraway look on his face. He is the youngest of my sons, but he seems the most weary. He barely ate, and trained harder and longer than ever. He became closed and irritable, and I often had to step in after fights with his older, more hot-headed, brothers.' The king paused, and Farah risked a glance at Shah, to find him watching her avidly. Their gazes locked, and Farah felt heat pool in her belly. Shah's eyebrow raised, and a smirk crossed his features. Farah smiled seductively, and turned her attention to the king again. 'Shah only truly talks to his brother Thaseem now, who never betrays his confidence. From my own observations, I believe that night at your borders changed him – I believe he fell in love.' Farah stared at the king in shock. The king, watching the feast before him, carried on regardless. 'By the time I realised, there was no chance of tracking down the girl. And so my son throws himself into needless battles and becomes more despondent with every passing day.' Farah laid her hand on the king's arm, trying to appease the weight she could see pressing down on him.

'Is there nothing I can do to help sire?' She asked tenderly.

'Thank you my dear, but I am afraid not. Even if I could find the girl, it is the law that the first son is married first.' The king patted Farah's hand consolingly. Farah smiled and sat back, watching the dancers with no real interest. Her mind churning, she tried to piece together the dreams and visions that had plagued her. She stared, unseeing, at the festivities around her, and was suddenly confronted by his face, screaming her name as she fell from him, her hand outstretched, his eyes wide in horror…then blackness.

'Are you enjoying the feast, Princess?' A familiar voice drawled in her ear. She turned with a jerk and stared at the prince, her face ashen. Immediately, his cocky demeanour vanished, and he put a hand to her skin, his eyes worried. 'Farah? Your hand is cold, and you're sweating. What's wrong, are you ill?' Horrified, she stared at him, her cheeks pale beneath her olive tone. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.

'I died.'


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 11

Shah moved like lightening. He fed his father some story about Farah being taken queasy and not to worry, to carry on enjoying the feast while he took her for a walk in the fresh air to calm her down. Within seconds, Farah felt the cool desert air on her face and the prince was rewarded with a little colour appearing in her cheeks. He sighed in relief, then caught her as she stumbled slightly. Leading her to a bench, he sat her down and tenderly brushed a wisp of hair from her clammy brow.

'Are you feeling better?' He murmured, watching her closely. Farah nodded dumbly, gulping in breaths of air. 'What happened?' He soothed, his hands holding hers while his thumbs traced circles on the back of her hands.

'I was trying to piece together my dreams.' Farah whispered, her voice shaken. 'Your father told me about Abazar having to marry first. He told me the reason for the withdrawal from India. He told me you…' Shah waited, trying not to rush her. 'He told me you had changed, and that you…were unhappy. I wanted to remember, to know you told me the truth, to fight the sands.' She stopped and stared at him, and this time her voice was strong. 'I died, didn't I?' Shah didn't answer. He didn't have to, Farah could see the pain in his eyes. 'My prince?' A smile flickered across the young man's pain stricken features.

'I didn't tell you because I couldn't. I didn't want to face it. We had fought, laughed, and saved the world together. And you couldn't remember it. Worse still, you thought I was telling a fantastical story, and you laughed about it, about us. I thought it best to let you live your life, and forget about me.' Farah's hand on his cheek raised his head and their eyes met, cerulean blue to chocolate brown.

'If you truly know me, then you shouldn't have given up so fast. You saved my life Prince, and I will forever be eternally grateful.' She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, a gentle touch that held promise and restrained passion. She drew back and leaned her forehead against his, closing her eyes. 'I love you, my prince. I know this now.' Shah sighed, her words soothing his broken heart. He could almost feel the jagged edges of a gaping hole knitting together as she kissed his hands.

'Whatever it takes, I will never let you go again.' He murmured fiercely, his eyes blazing. 'You are my life, and I am yours to command. I will protect you with every fibre of my being. I love you Farah.' It felt good to finally be able to say the words out loud, to confirm what was in his heart. The two sat, their heads together, in comfortable and calm silence.

'WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?' The calm night was shattered by the roar of Shah's eldest brother. The young prince sprang to his feet and assumed a defensive position in front of the shocked princess, his face twisted in a snarl.

'Were you spying on us, Abazar?' Shah ground out angrily, his eyes blazing. The wind carried the stench of fetid alcohol to him, and the prince wrinkled his nose in disgust. 'You are drunk brother. Go to your rooms and sleep it off.'

'You'd like that, wouldn't you, you little brat. Father's favourite, always getting what he wants. Well you can't this time. She is promised to me, as of this afternoon. You will never have her!' Farah was thunderstruck. Shah glowered at him, then Farah found her voice.

'And who has agreed to this arrangement Prince Abazar? Certainly not me, and as the ambassador for this visit, such momentous decisions should be at least consulted with me before you _assume_ that they are so.' Shah didn't have to turn to know that she had drawn herself up to her fullest height and was glaring at him disdainfully. Abazar leered at her, and wobbled forward a step as footsteps were heard running towards them. Marathat and Thaseem skidded into view, and quickly placed themselves between the two very different princes, one coiled and ready to spring, the other barely staying upright.

'Calm yourself brother. Princess, please excuse our brother for his incredibly stupid actions. He has had far too much to drink, and I would have him removed from your sight with your permission.' Thaseem placated, as Marathat placed a hand on Abazar's chest.

'Ab, let's go.' He murmured, gently pushing him backwards. Abazar seemed to accept it, then looked down at the hand and shoved it away angrily.

'Leave me!' He roared. 'I will not be cheated by this whelp!' He started towards Shah again, pushing Marathat behind him, who grabbed his arms.

'Shah, take the Princess inside, back to the feast, immediately.' Thaseem urged, pushing them towards the palace before turning to deal with his elder brother. Shah picked Farah up bodily and ran lightly back to the palace, Abazar's roar of frustration echoing over the gardens. As they reached the patio, Shah placed her lightly back on the floor outside of the light cast through the window.

'What's the matter Prince?' Farah said, noting the concern on his face. 'Believe me, I will refuse to marry him. No-one will make my decisions for me. Shah, tell me, what's wrong? Smile, please?' Farah begged him, alarmed by the consternation on his face. Realising he was worrying her, the prince took her hand and kissed it.

'I'm sorry my love. I must speak to my father. Abazar is a dangerous man. My father cannot want you to marry him.'

'Why are you so afraid of him?'

'I'm not afraid of him, I'm afraid of what he will do to you. Abazar has…a history with women.' Farah pulled on the prince's hand, forcing him to stop.

'What aren't you telling me.' She stated quietly. Shah sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

'My father had three wives. Abazar came from his first, Marathat and Thaseem from his second – they are twins, born ten minutes apart. I was from his third, and most loved, wife. Father's first wife was born to be a queen. Regal, connected, everything he needed to help him rule. When Abazar was thirteen, she attempted to kill the king. She tried to stab him in his sleep. The king tried to be merciful, but it was only the first of many attempts that she made on his life. We later found that the whole family was cursed with madness. Abazar seemed to be different, he was a dedicated warrior, a good brother, and he was well on his way to being a good king. Then, three years ago, a report reached us from one of Father's spies. Abazar had visited a whorehouse, and there had been an incident. Suffice to say, the women were no longer recognisable. When we delved further into it, it seemed it was not the first of its kind. Father dreads the day that he becomes king, for Abazar has a dark soul that will infect all of Persia.' Farah listened numbly, seeing the sparks in Abazar's eyes for what they truly were – the marks of madness.

'Is there nothing that can be done?' Shah snorted, a derisive sound that chilled her to her bone.

'He is the Crown Prince. His mother saw to that.' Farah sighed, desperately trying to think of a solution. They stood in silence for a moment.

'Why does he hate you so much?' Shah smiled thinly.

'I remind Father of my mother. She gave me her eyes. She was from the west, a gift to him from a foreign king on our borders. She joined his harem, and Father loved her so much he married her. He went more often to her bed than his queen's, and she hated me for it. It seems that Abazar has picked up on his mother's hate.' Farah reached for his hand, threading her slim fingers through his calloused ones.

'There must be something we can do.' Shah smiled at her.

'For now, we can rejoin the party and enjoy ourselves.' Grinning, he pulled her back to the feast.

The next morning, Farah woke later than usual. The late finish of the feast, and the time travelling to Babylon had wearied her more than usual, and she luxuriated in the feeling of a soft bed. When she had breakfasted, Nona accompanied her to the bath that the palace girls had filled for her, and she sank into the waters gratefully. Nona shucked off her sandals and dropped her legs over the side, waiting patiently for Farah to surface.

'You look tired.' Farah commented. 'Do you want to join me? There's more than enough room.' Nona hesitated, then stripped down to her breast band and skirt and slipped into the water, savouring the relaxing heat.

'I could get in so much trouble.' She murmured, closing her eyes and leaning her head back.

'Unlikely. This isn't our palace, so people will leave us alone.' Farah mirrored her actions, and the two young girls sat in comfortable silence for a while.

'So spill.' Nona commanded after a moment. 'What happened last night?' Farah looked at her, her eyes clouded.

'I remembered everything, clear as day. It hit me in a tidal wave, knocked me a little sick actually. The prince was very genteel and took me outside to recover. That's all.' Nona raised her eyebrows.

'Horse muck.' Nona cursed. 'You looked like a deer in the torchlight when you came back in last night. Something else happened to upset you.' Farah took a deep breath.

'I think the King might be planning to marry me off, as a peace agreement.' Nona's shocked gasp sounded loud. 'Shh! The only problem is, I think he may be planning to wed me to his eldest, the Crown Prince.' Nona looked concerned.

'But he's a pig, he's disgusting! You saw him last night, no table manners, and even though he's handsome, he is ugly on the inside.'

'Exactly. He scares me.' Nona stroked Farah's shoulder consolingly.

'And the youngest prince? How do you feel about him?' Farah beamed, and Nona laughed. 'I guess that answers that then.'

'He is everything I dreamed he would be. But I am bound to act as ambassador. I cannot jeopardise this. And before Shah can even think of marrying, Abazar must marry first.' Nona watched the conflict rage across her best friends face.

'Do you love him?' She asked quietly. Farah closed her eyes and leaned her head back, letting the water wash over her again.

'More than my life.' She murmured.

The morning passed in a blur. The king showed the Princess around the palace, Nona in tow, without the princes. The conversation flowed light and easy, and in the warm sunlight the Princess could imagine that the incident of the previous night had not happened. The tour finished in the royal family's private garden, where the king led her to a round table, already set for lunch under an awning, with a beautiful view of the fountain and the surrounding garden.

'So my dear, I understand that there was a problem last night.' The king began, and Farah stiffened slightly. The king saw her reaction, and leaned forward earnestly. 'I would like you to know, that Abazar had no right to approach you in that manner. Please accept my sincerest apologies for his behaviour. There is no excuse for such insult.' Farah softened, and bestowed a smile on the begging king.

'Sire, it is not your apology I seek, but I accept it nonetheless. You are not to blame for your son's judgement.'

'I fear his judgement is impaired irreparably.' The king sighed, and leaned back against his cushions.

'There is a small matter I wished to discuss with you, sire.' Farah began again after a moment's silence. The king looked over to her, interested. 'Prince Abazar last night alluded to a match between my kingdom and your empire.' The king looked puzzled. 'A match through marriage; mine, to the Crown Prince.' The king looked shocked instantly. Farah felt sorry for him, but ploughed on ahead. 'You can imagine my state of mind, to be told that I was to be married with no prior agreement. As the ambassador for this visit, I assumed that no such decision would be made without my input. I was upset, to say the least, that I had not been consulted.' She paused, and the king sighed heavily.

'I can only apologise for my son's drunken state. He had no right to speak to you in such a way. Given your first experience of our hospitality, I would not have blamed you for leaving at first light this morning.'

'Please sire, one drunken fool does not a bad visit make. I can handle Prince Abazar, I was merely surprised is all. This visit has been most enjoyable so far, I am having a wonderful time.' Farah laid her hand on the king's arm, smiling gently at him. The king patted her hand.

'The idea of a match was suggested yesterday, during a council meeting. I hasten to add that I did not approve of the idea, as the law of our land would mean your marriage to Abazar, and I have a feeling that he is not the marrying kind. Shah told me that he told you about his brothers past.'

'He did my lord.'

'Then you know that there is something in him which cannot be explained away. I wish it were not so, but Abazar is destined for the crown. There is nothing I can do.' Farah watched her companion, who seemed to become older as she watched, his frame weakening almost by sight. 'I am old, my dear, and soon the gods may take me to their arms. But I would be leaving my empire in the hands of a savage man, and I cannot risk that.' Farah sighed, and folded her hands together.

'King Shahraman, please do not mistake me for being impertinent, but you are king. Can you not just claim your successor? As king, you can change the law with support from the majority of councillors.' The king sighed heavily.

'If only I could. However, in order to strip him of his status, my queen and I would have to renege our wedding vows together, but she has been dead these past seven years. No, princess, I am powerless to stop it.' The king was interrupted by the entrance of the four princes, who joined them at their table. They bowed to the princess, Abazar smirking as if he mocked the princess, then seated themselves quietly. The king gestured, and the servants began to serve the meal. 'So Princess.' The king stated decisively, and Farah steeled herself for diplomacy. 'My councillors would have me propose a union between our countries through marriage. Yours, to a Prince of this country.' Abazar puffed up like a peacock, smirking widely. Farah sucked in a breath, watching the colour drain from Shah's face.

'I am honoured sire, but why marriage? Surely a trade agreement would be much more beneficial to us both.'

'True, but that can be arranged under a marriage treaty.' The king's speech sounded rehearsed, and was spoken through gritted teeth. Farah could see how much he didn't want to say this. 'A marriage bond would be stronger than simple trade, and India would be protected under Persian rule.'

'Meaning that my father the Maharajah would be a mere regent in his own country, holding the throne as a puppet king.'

'As a valued friend and ally.'

'Still, a puppet of Persian masters.' The diplomatic banter carried back and forth, and the meal continued.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 12

The king rubbed a hand over his face. Farah had proved to be a shrewd diplomat, and the political talks had continued well after the meal had ended. The princes had mostly stayed silent, adding comments here and there, and when called upon, providing useful information for the negotiations.

Thaseem and Marathat paid rapt attention to the proceedings, listening intently and offering wise and intelligent counsel to the king. The pair of them often had the same idea, and could see options out of any sticking points with the discussion. Shahraman was glad to have them there, he could tell that they would become powerful and wise diplomats. His youngest merely watched the princess, observing the moves she made, and listening to her opinions quietly, occasionally shaking or nodding his head. Strangely, the princess seemed to take cues from him. If he shook his head, she changed tack until he smiled in appreciation, and continued down the path if he nodded. Amused, the king felt a little like a captured wild horse being corralled as he realised that Shah was giving Farah clues as to where he would most likely concede a point to her. The kings mind began to work furiously as he watched the silent exchanges and noticed the change in his son. He was more relaxed today than he had been in four months, and now the old king had realised why. Their connection was obviously very strong, and it pleased the king to have discovered the root of his son's problems. Abazar, seated to the king's right, seemed to have no interest in the proceedings. He ate his meal noisily, slopping food into his lap and slurping at the wine as if he had not eaten for days. His eyes were bored, and disinterested, but Farah could see a glint in them that grew stronger the more he drank. Occasionally, he would look at his father, his glances full of contempt, and sometimes loathing. He was quickly becoming more and more obvious in his drunkenness, and the king motioned to the servants to remove the wine.

Farah took advantage of the kings distraction to glance at Shah. She was aware of every breath he took, and could feel his eyes on her as she bartered back and forth with the king. Her body was tingling pleasantly as she felt his gaze rake over her skin, and she couldn't help but notice his toned body as he lounged across the table from her in his leather jerkin. He winked at her, and heat flushed through her. Embarrassed, she looked back at the king to cover her flushed cheeks.

King Shahraman watched the exchange with interest. He was only thankful that Abazar had not seen this latest development, engrossed as he was in his wine goblet. Sighing, he shook his head imperceptibly and turned back to the task at hand.

'So Princess, we have hammered out the particulars, but you still have not answered the original topic in question. Do we have a marriage treaty?' Abazar's head snapped up, his eyes glazed as he stared at the Princess, who refused to look at him and kept her gaze on the king.

'And who would this marriage be with sire?' The king winced inwardly.

'As per our law, the eldest son must marry first, in which case it would be the Crown Prince.' Farah turned a withering glance towards Abazar, who smiled at her. Unfortunately, it did not sit nicely in his half drunk state, and the end result looked more like a maniacal grin. Farah took a deep breath and tried to think of a delicate way out.

'Sire. I am most grateful for the honour that you do me, but please do not take offence when I refuse.' Abazar's face dropped into an outright sneer. 'I am sure you are aware that when my father dies, I shall become Queen in his place, and I cannot take the future ruler of the empire from his seat in power. As Queen, I must reside in Azad, as Emperor, Prince Abazar will be required here in Babylon.' Farah jumped as Abazar slammed his fist on the table.

'This is an insult! She is wasting our time!'

'Abazar, control yourself!' The king commanded, his eyes blazing.

'I will not let some foreign harlot dictate our kingdom! You are a fool if you think that this treaty will ever work.' He sneered at the king.

'Abazar, calm down. You need to leave, now.' Marathat urged, his calm voice placating.

'I will not leave the empire in the hands of this decrepit old man!' Abazar spat. 'My mother was right, you are poisonous to this country. She was right to want your head!'

'This country has flourished under your father's rule!' The normally calm Thaseem's voice raised in anger. 'He has been nothing but kind to you since your traitorous mother's death. And this is how you repay him?'

'ENOUGH! I will have no more of this idiotic talk!' The king bellowed, standing up. His flowing movement belied his age. 'You have insulted me beyond measure, and in front of a guest. You will leave this table and we will decide on your punishment later.' The King of Persia stared down his son, who mutinously muttered under his breath and got up to leave.

'Watch your back old man.' He hissed, and walked past his father.

It all happened in a blur. Abazar drew something from his sleeve, and rushed at the king. Marathat and Thaseem shouted out, and Shah flew across the table, dragging Farah to the floor and covering her. When Farah could look up, Abazar had thrown Thaseem to the floor, and Marathat and he were squaring off in the courtyard. Shah pulled her to sit up again.

'My love, are you injured?' He asked worriedly checking her over.

'No, I'm fine, go go!' She pushed him towards his sparring brothers and turned to deal with the fallen king. 'My lord, where?' Shahraman gestured to his side, and she placed her hands over the wound, screaming for the healers as she tried to keep him awake. 'Look at me Shahraman, look at me, right at me. You're going to be fine.'

'My lady, move!' The healers roughly pushed her out of the way as they went to work, and Farah turned to the warring princes.

'Stay there!' Shah commanded as the guards advanced. 'He's mine.'

'Going to fight me one on one runt? Brave of you. Or incredibly stupid. I'm bigger and stronger than you.' Abazar sneered, and lunged for him, the dagger in his hand flashing out to gut him. Even drunk, Abazar was a dangerous foe. Shah feinted to the side, dropped and swept Abazar's legs out from under him. Abazar grunted as he landed flat on his back, and rolled away.

'But I'm faster Ab.' Shah taunted. Abazar roared and charged towards him. Shah crouched low, bunching his muscles, and somersaulted over him, stepping on Abazar's back and sending him sprawling. 'Come on Abazar, you can do better than that!' Abazar grinned evilly, and lunged with his dagger again. Shah feinted to the side and smartly punched his wrist, making him drop the dagger, but missed the left hook, which connected squarely with his jaw and sent him reeling backwards. Abazar pressed his advantage, and the two princes closed in on each other in frantic hand to hand, throwing punches and kicks and trying to find a weak spot. Abazar fought frantically, a manic look on his face, his movements wild and unpredictable.

'You're stalling, little brother.' He panted, as Shah blocked his punch and twisted around him. Shah kicked him in the back of the knee, dropping him to the floor, and followed it with a sharp punch to the middle of his back, landing him face first in the dirt.

'Certainly not.' He replied, his voice calm and collected, despite the fierceness of the battle. Abazar stood up slowly and turned to face him. 'Why Abazar? You are our brother.'

'And always second place to you!' Abazar roared and closed on him again, his right fist sailing through the air. Shah blocked it, grabbed his wrist and planted his foot in his brothers chest, letting go at the same time. Abazar flew backwards, and skidding along the floor, then rolled into a crouch and sprang at Shah, knocking him backwards. They rolled across the ground, Abazar finally managing to get Shah in a headlock. 'Don't worry brother.' He simpered in Shah's ear. 'Once you and father are dead, Persia will be a better place under my rule. As for your little whore, she will learn to obey me. Oh yes, she will be a perfect plaything.' Shah yelled in anger and snapped his head back, bloodying Abazar's nose. Rolling away, he gathered his strength as his brother stumbled back, then ran towards him. Leaping over him, he twisted so that his hands were on his brothers shoulders and curled in so his foot connected with Abazar's back. Using his momentum, he pulled his brother to the ground and flipped him over his head, sending him flying across the courtyard. Shah ran past him to the wall and up it, then twisted round and landed solidly, his knee planted on the wounded prince's chest. Abazar screamed in pain, and blood spurted from his open mouth. Shah panted wildly, his hands splayed on his brothers shoulders, pinning him to the floor. Slowly, he leaned down and stared into is brothers crazed, pain filled eyes.

'It will never be you. You are a lesser son of better fathers, a disgrace to this family, and a ruined soul. You are exiled.' Shah stood up and walked away, leaving his brother in the sand and his own blood. Abazar rolled over, watching him go, hate in his eyes. A blood curdling scream ripped from his mouth, and he grabbed the dropped dagger.

'Prince!' Farah screamed, her hands flying to her mouth.

Shah caught the two blades that came towards him and slashed around in an arc. There was a breath, and Abazar slumped to the floor, his eyes wide in disbelief as blood blossomed from the two deep slashes in his chest. He fell to the side, his eyes devoid of spark, and his blood mixed with the sand.

The Crown Prince was dead.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 13

In the three days that followed the king's death, the Princes prayed, fasted, and made the blood sacrifices. The city mourned, countless people dressed in white thronging the courtyard and steps. The weeping and wailing rose and fell like waves as the mourners prostrated themselves on the floor, others knelt with their hands clasped to the chests, rocking back and forth and keening loudly. Farah watched it all in despair and gruesome fascination. The palace servants had brought her a simple white robe, and she joined the mourning crowds in their anguish. In their turn, the servants, people, and the Princes were grateful for the respect she showed their faith, and Farah had been accepted by the Persians. She was not as dramatic in her mourning, but it was clear how much she missed the kindly old king.

Priests consecrated the food offerings, as they would for twenty seven more days and the Kings final garments were burned so that he might be clothed and fed on his journey to the kingdom of the dead. As the King's body began to be lowered into the deep shaft, Farah watched Shah carefully. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up, and Farah was struck by the look of utter hopelessness and loss that lanced through her with his gaze. She bit back a sob as a tear coursed down her cheek, and Shah's lips twitched sadly as he turned his attention back to the ceremony. The wailing increased as the king's body lowered into the royal family's resting place, and the stone slab was slid into its place. In silence, the three princes blew out the three candles that had stood with the body, and the crowd began to disperse, the anguished cries slowly ebbing away as the sun set over the city.

The next day, Farah walked the palace grounds with Nona in a listless fashion, caught up in her own thoughts. Nona sensed her friend's distraction, and left her to it as she slowly paced behind her. Farah has seen none of the princes since the previous night, when they had retreated to the king's room and cloistered themselves away in mutual mourning. By mid afternoon, Farah found that her feet had brought her to a small courtyard, centred around a fountain. She sighed softly and sat on the edge, dangling her hand in the cool water.

'Thank you.' The soft voice made her jump. She looked around in time to see the youngest prince stepping from the shade of the columns. 'I know it has been hard for you to be here the last few days. They are not your gods, after all.' Farah smiled gently.

'It was important to you and your people, and I am happy to do it.' She replied, a faint blush staining her cheeks. Shah smiled.

'Marathat has requested that you join us.' He said briskly, holding out his hand. Taking his hand, Farah allowed herself to be led back into the palace. They walked side by side in silence, enjoying the nearness of each other, their fingers interlinked. The air between them hummed with things left unsaid, and Farah felt the heat of her blush as her body responded to the quiet, confident man by her side. Shah took a deep breath, squeezing her hand gently as he tried to maintain his composure. His thoughts focussed on the feel of her soft hand in his, and he wondered if the rest of her was as soft. He wanted to give in, to push her against the palace wall and lose himself in everything that was Farah and explore every inch of her, but he steeled himself and walked on doggedly, the set of his jaw the only outward sign of his inner battle. Finally, they reached the Council Chambers. Farah pulled on the princes hand as she stopped. Shah looked around worriedly.

'Is everything alright?' He asked, his eyes searching her face. Farah looked concerned, not wanting to push her boundaries.

'I can't go in there.' She replied. 'The Council Chambers are a man's domain, I cannot enter.' Shah smiled, relieved.

'Of course you can. Things are done differently in Persia, Farah. And besides, there is no male ambassador on this visit is there?' Gently, he pulled her towards the doors before pushing them open and standing aside to let her pass.

Farah walked in slowly. The chamber was completely different to the Indian chambers. Where in India, the councillors sat along the sides of the rooms in rows, in Persia there was a large circular table with a gap in one end for the slaves to provide refreshments to each councillor should they need it. The chair opposite the gap, dead centre, sat empty, as did the seat to the right. As Farah walked in, the room became silent and all eyes turned to her. Holding her head high, she made her way around the waiting councillors to an empty seat. A nod from Marathat, and an encouraging smile from Thaseem, and Farah took her place amongst the men, Nona standing dutifully behind her.

'So councillors, we seem to be at an impasse.' Marathat continued, as Shah took his own seat. The councillors turned their attention back to their future king, and Farah let out a breath, then listened intently.

'The traitor prince cannot be buried within the family tomb. It would be an insult to King Shahraman.' A portly councillor was saying. 'He should be left outside the palace walls, for the sport of carrion crows.'

'I concur.' A second councillor spoke. 'He does not deserve a Prince's burial. Crows would be too good for him. I vote that we burn him, eradicate his evil once and for all!' Murmurs of agreement met the statement.

'We cannot alter the fact that he was the Crown Prince, and for a number of years, was a credit to the empire!' Cried another. 'True, he betrayed us at the last, but he gave the empire many victories, and we should at least hold that in mind when we pass him to the god's keeping.' Marathat leant his chin on his hand, his fingers smoothing his beard thoughtfully.

'I will not leave our brother outside the city for wild animals.' Thaseem countered. 'Traitor or not, he was our brother, and we will treat him as such.' Shah nodded his agreement.

'Surely a compromise can be arranged.' Farah spoke up, then wished she hadn't. She flushed bright red as the attention turned back to her. 'Forgive me.' She stammered out, highly embarrassed. 'I speak out of turn.' Marathat regarded her, amused.

'Please, Princess Farah, speak your mind. I welcome your opinion.' Farah blushed even more, then fixed her gaze on Marathat, trying to ignore the curious looks the councillors were passing her way.

'I only meant, Prince, that if the Crown Prince cannot be buried in the family tomb, and your graces are not wanting to leave him outside the city gates, why not reach a compromise. There must be other tomb sites somewhere in the city? Perhaps an unassuming grave, elsewhere that is easily accessible? Not the royal tomb, but at least not left out for the sport of animals.' Shah smiled, trying to hide it behind his hand as the councillors looked to one another.

'That could be possible.' The first councillor conceded, leaning back and crossing his arms. Farah breathed a sigh of relief, whether from being accepted by the councillors or from panic, she wasn't sure. 'It would have to be a shallow grave, but at least he would be buried.'

'And the stone could be named simply, no mention of title or rank, nothing tying him to the royal family.' Thaseem urged, sensing a weakness and pressing upon it.

'All in favour?' Marathat's musical lilt rolled out, and the councillors nodded in turn. 'Good, then it's settled. Is that all?'

'My Prince, we must discuss your coronation.'

'I believe I have made my feelings quite clear on this, councillor.' Marathat stared out at the assembled table. 'I am not ready to become king. And I never will be.'

'My Prince, we need a leader. It is your birthright, you are the eldest.'

'It is not my birthright!' Marathat snapped angrily. 'It was my brothers, and I will not take his place.'

'We must have a king, or the Empire will fall. You must take your place as King Prince Marathat.' The councillors nodded enthusiastically. Farah, seeing the panic in his eyes, felt sorry for the beleagured prince.

'I am not married. I cannot ascend to the throne.'

'That is easily dealt with.'

'I will not marry for convenience or power.'

'You can take more than one wife, Prince.' Marathat looked haggard as the councillors battered him down slowly. His eyes fixed on his twin, and an idea came to him. His demeanour changed, and he leant over and spoke in Thaseem's ear. Thaseem looked confused, then nodded, still looking confused.

'My lords.' Marathat addressed the council, his posture relaxed and confident. Farah thought he looked mischievous, and wondered what he was up to. 'I will become King. On one condition.' The sighs of relief were quickly stifled as the councillors heard the proviso. 'I shall not marry. I shall rule jointly with my brother, Prince Thaseem.' Silence greeted the prince's statement.

'My Prince, nothing of the sort has ever happened.' A quiet voice spoke into the hushed room.

'Precisely. That is why I have proposed it. This way, the kingdom has two rulers, as it should. And, it leaves us free to marry whom we like. There is no rush to find a bride, and the kingdom does not suffer.' Marathat looked around at the shocked councillors, pleased with his logic. Farah chuckled to herself, enjoying the looks of confusion on the councillors faces. Finally, one of the councillors spoke.

'I actually quite like the Prince's logic. They would make a fine team, and I believe that it would be a move towards a greater Persia.' Marathat nodded at the councillor, who bowed to the prince. The other councillors slowly began to smile as they weighed the pros and cons of the idea.

'Long live the Kings?' Shah ventured.

'Long live the Kings!' The councillors chorused strongly, and Marathat turned to his brother, clasping his arm happily. Shah clapped them on the backs, and hugged them briefly as the councillors stood and bowed to them, Farah among them. Turning, Marathat and Thaseem seated themselves once more, and the council followed suit.

'Now, princess.' Marathat began, and Farah turned to him in surprise. 'We must address your visit here. Please be assured that my father's agreements with you still stand; they are attested to by my two brothers and myself. However, we did not finish negotiations. There is still the matter to discuss of a marriage to seal the treaty.'

'My lord,-' Farah began, then stopped as Thaseem held up his hand.

'Princess, I have spent many years studying Persia's law. The marriage of the eldest prince is only necessary to secure his throne before he takes it. Our Brother-King arrangement, I feel, negates the need for such a law. As such, I would offer our father's agreement without that particular clause.'

'I disagree.' The youngest prince spoke up, and all eyes swivelled to him. 'I believe it is the most important part of the contract.' Farah's eyes flashed angrily.

'Prince Shah, as I told your Father, it would be impossible for such a union, as I would need to be in Azad, and your brother-kings would need to be here in Babylon. It is simply logistically impossible.' The prince smirked, and Farah resisted the urge to rush across the table and smack him.

'I understand that Princess, and believe me, I would not want to pull any of you away from your duties. However, there is a solution to the problem.' Shah turned to face his brothers. 'I would gladly take the Princess as my wife, as I have no kingly attachments here. In this way, the marriage would ensure our alliance, and all parties are satisfied as to location.' Farah felt the anger drain from her as she heard the Prince's words, and her mouth dropped open in shock. Thaseem grinned, and Farah tried desperately to smooth her expression out, failing miserably until Shah caught her eye and winked, and Farah's mouth shut with a slam. Mischief in his eyes, the youngest prince stood and bowed, and Farah was aware of every eye in the room watching her. 'If that would be agreeable to yourself Princess?' He asked, his tone slightly mocking. Farah stared at him.

'Princess?' Marathat asked gently after a few seconds of silence. 'My brother and I would be happy to bless the arrangement if you agree?' Farah turned slowly to the brother-kings, seeing in their faces a mixture of worried tension, amusement, and confusion. Standing slowly, she breathed deeply and tried to keep her features calm, even as a storm raced through her. Putting her hands together, she bowed to the brother kings.

'I believe we have an agreement, sires.' She murmured, as the brother-kings grinned.

The rest of the council meeting passed quickly. Arrangements were made for a small inconspicuous burial of the Crown Prince, and plans were put in place for the coronation. The youngest prince's marriage would take place two weeks after, and Farah offered the council her help to set plans in motion, which seemed to bring sighs of relief. After much deliberating, the council broke up, and Farah was released, Nona following behind her.

'My feet went dead in that place!' Nona complained as soon as they reached a deserted corridor. Farah giggled.

'I don't think they had your feet in mind when the designed the palace, Nona.' Farah grinned. Nona watched her shrewdly for a moment.

'You're happy aren't you?' She asked tentatively. Farah smiled at her.

'The prince is a fine man. He will make a worthy husband and the arrangement is mutually beneficial to all.' Nona rolled her eyes.

'Come on, drop the ambassador talk.' Farah gave her a stern look as they rounded a corner and came face to face with a corridor of people. Nona obediently dropped behind as Farah led the way to her chambers.

'Princess! A word, if you would?' The two girls turned at the sound of the Prince's voice. Farah nodded to Nona as the Prince opened her chamber door and let her in past him. He closed the door behind them, leaving Nona outside. Farah opened her mouth to speak, but the Prince was on her before she could, grabbing her in a bone crushing hug and pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. Farah's arms snaked around his neck, and the Prince nipped at her mouth. Farah gladly opened her lips, and the Prince's tongue swept inside, tangling with hers joyfully. Farah's head swam as she clung to Shah, who pressed her backward until she met the wall, his hands running over her curves and massaging her hips. He pressed his body into her, pinning her in place, and Farah's hands tangled in his hair as he laid hot kisses down her throat. Shah kissed first one heaving breast, then the other, revelling in the soft bounce of her warm skin. Farah groaned, and he returned to her lips, drinking in the taste and smell of her. His hands came up to frame her face, and he reluctantly pulled back, leaving them both panting as he rested his forehead against hers, their eyes closed.

'I've been wanting to do that since before that stupid council meeting.' He murmured as he gasped for breath. Farah giggled breathlessly.

'Well I'm not complaining.' She grinned, her voice low and unrecognisable to her ears. Shah smiled back, unseen.

'Marry me?' He murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down Farah's spine. She smiled happily.

'Absolutely.' She murmured in that new low voice. Shah sighed contentedly and stepped away from her, smirking at her dishevelled sari and hair, then opened the door to find a fidgeting Nona waiting. He bowed to Nona, waving her in with a wide sweeping motion, and Nona walked past awkwardly, unsure of whether he was mocking her or not. Shah grinned at her, and she scowled. Closing the door behind him, Nona glared at her friend, her hands on her hips. Farah flopped back on the bed, and sighed.

'I'm getting married!' She squealed. Nona broke into a smile and laughed.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Chapter 14

'Stop fidgeting!' Nona exclaimed. 'Memsaab.' She added hastily as the other girls looked at her in horror. Farah tried not to giggle at Nona's mistake and attempted to stand still while the girls put the finishing touches to their princess. Eventually, the girls stepped back to admire their handiwork, and Farah turned to the looking-glass.

A pale, nervous version of herself looked out at her. Ornate henna designs adorned her hands and feet, and she was dressed in a brand new ivory sari, inlaid with gold and bronze threads. Her wrists and ankles sported delicate gold bangles that jangled as she walked, and ornate gold earrings sparkled in the light. Farah's eyes had been kohl'd, and her lips were a deep red. She was missing her bindi, as it would be added during the ceremony, and her black hair was braided and clipped on top of her head. Farah took a deep breath, feeling it rattle through her, and smiled wanly.

'Thankyou.' Farah breathed. 'Now all I have to do walk in there.' She smiled at the expectant girls, who let out a collective breath as their giggles rang through the room. The door opened, and the room's occupants bowed as the Maharajah walked in. Smiling appreciatively, he studied his daughter.

'You look so much like your mother.' He murmured, and Farah flushed.

'Really Father?' She asked hopefully. Her father laughed.

'Yes, my dear. You look beautiful.' The maharajah watched for a second. 'I brought you something. It was your mothers.' He gestured, and his manservant brought forward a small chest. He opened it and drew out a glimmering gold tikka. Farah's mouth dropped open in shock.

'Father, I cannot wear this, it is the Maharani's tikka!'

'And, one day, you will be Maharani. You had better get used to wearing it.' Her father gently laid it on her head, then turned her to face the glass. 'There. It completes you.' Farah blushed.

'Thankyou, my father.' She hugged him, her frame trembling, and her father kissed her cheek.

'Now. Time to get this underway.' He said briskly, stepping back to allow the girls to fix the tikka in place. As Farah watched in the looking-glass, Nona stepped forward shyly and gently drew the soft material over Farah's head, pinning it in place carefully. Farah felt her knees turn to jelly as her entourage lined up in front of her and they left the chambers.

Shah gulped as a breeze drifted across his neck, and he knew the doors had opened. At an encouraging smile from Thaseem, he steeled himself as the handmaidens progressed up the temple and knelt in the front row. Thaseem's grin grew wider, and the youngest prince couldn't help himself. He looked.

An angel drifted down the centre aisle of the temple. He could feel his nervousness slipping away as he watched the woman of his dreams walk towards him confidently. As she reached the steps, he extended his hand and guided her up the steps, his fingers caressing hers softly as he stared in wonderment at her. Farah smiled coyly as she took her place by his side, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, they knelt either side of the screen, and the high priest began the ritual. Shah barely listened as he answered the questions and listened to the priest's prayers of ritual. The Hindu readings were read in a nod to Farah's religion, finally the curtain dropped, and the newly married prince and princess threw rice over one another, signalling their marriage. Cheers erupted as Shah took his princess's hands, bowed over them, and kissed them. The world melted away for him as he straightened, gazing at her with a smirk on his face. Farah smirked back and gave his hand a quick tug, pulling him back to the wedding as they turned to face the visiting delegates. As they left the temple, the cheers magnified with the crowd of people, and the new couple were whisked away to the palace for their wedding feast.

The feast was loud, and full of laughter, but Farah heard it nonetheless.

'Well princess, is this arrangement to your liking?' Farah smirked to herself, then schooled her features to face her husband with a bored look.

'It suits all parties prince. I am merely a tool to be bargained with for peace for my kingdom.' Her prince smiled back at her.

'Oh I think you are much more than that. A politician, a warrior, and a princess? You might want to be careful, strong women can be considered threatening.'

'Are you threatened by me prince?'

'Yes, extremely.' The prince quipped, amusement dancing in his eyes.

'Then I shall have no problem in my marriage to you. It will be good to have a subservient man. Perhaps I should take a lover, in case Persian princes are not all they are reported to be.' The princess smiled wickedly.

'Trying to make me jealous? It won't work you know.' The prince replied lazily, biting into a fig.

'Really, and why is that?' The princess's eyes sparkled playfully. The prince watched the feast.

'Because Persian princes are everything they are reported to be.' Shah turned his head, enjoying the flush of colour that stained his wife's cheeks. Tenderly, he reached out a hand and stroked the smooth skin, his calloused fingers rough against her cheek as he chuckled low in his throat. 'No cutting remark princess? I'm shocked.' Farah shuddered pleasantly at his touch and tried to ignore the heat that flooded through her.

'Well that was easy.' Farah retorted. The prince laughed, took her hand, and kissed it lingeringly. Farah felt the heat pool in her core, and her breathing became quicker. The young prince watched her reaction, fascinated by her soft, full lips that parted as she stared at him in nervous excitement. His study of her was interrupted by a dignitary, who settled in next to him, seemingly for a long discussion about border disputes. Tearing his gaze away, Shah turned to his guest, wishing that he could leave the feast with his new wife, and completely missed the sudden mischievous smile that crossed Farah's face. After a few minutes of the prince acting like he was interested, Farah gently laid a hand on her prince's thigh, making him jump like a jackrabbit. Slowly, she began stroking her hand up and down his leg beneath the table, watching as his fist clenched and hearing him clear his throat more than was strictly necessary. She grinned evilly as his hand slipped beneath the table and grabbed hers, squeezing her fingers and gently holding it steady. Suddenly, she felt much better about tonight.

An hour later, that feeling had gone. Her handmaidens had descended on her, whisking her away from the festivities and towards the marital chambers. Her knees weakened and her head pounded as she realised what was coming next, but she managed to hold herself steady as Nona and the others dressed her in the sheerest gown she had ever seen. As the moon rose, the girls tidied the room, clearing away her wedding things and lighting a fire and candles. Quietly, they bowed to her, their hands pressed together, and filed out past her, Nona giving her a friendly squeeze before she closed the door. Farah flicked her hands nervously, sighing. She paced the room, trying to ignore the humungous bed that dominated the room and seemed to grow larger everytime she looked at it. Mentally shaking herself, she decided to lie across it, expectantly watching the door. After a few seconds she got up hurriedly, and resumed pacing. Her attention caught, she strode to the balcony and pulled the doors closed, looked at them for a moment and then pushed them open again.

'Much better. It's a warm night, a breeze will be welcome.' An amused voice came from behind her, and Farah whirled. Shah lounged by the door, watching her with a bemused expression. Farah's heart fluttered in her chest, and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Shah chuckled. 'You blush very easily princess. It's very becoming on you.' Farah dropped her gaze slightly, unsure and nervous. 'No words of welcome for your husband princess?' Shah came toward her slowly. Farah stood her ground, her gaze averted. 'Farah?' The prince stopped in front of her. 'Look at me, Farah.' He waited patiently. Slowly, hesitantly, Farah looked at a certain patch of skin on his cheek. The prince waited, and Farah's nervous gaze flickered to his steady one. 'I will never hurt you, I promise.' He said earnestly. 'Tell me what you are feeling.' Farah paused.

'I am happy. To be married to you. But I'm scared. I don't really know what I'm doing, and I'm scared you won't want me after tonight.' The prince smiled warmly at her.

'That, my love, will never happen.' He assured her, and Farah felt the knot of fear loosen a little. 'We will go slow, as slow as you like. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you must tell me, understand?' Farah nodded mutely, all her regal bravado gone in the face of her naivety. Shah raised his hands to her face and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. His hands framed her face as he rained soft kisses on her cheeks, her chin, her forehead and her eyes. Drawing back, he smiled at her closed eyes and upturned face. He kissed her lips again, his hands skimming down her neck and across her shoulders. His lips drifted down her throat and over her collarbone as his hands slowly pushed the straps of her nightgown off, pooling it at her feet and exposing her to the cool night air. He slowly stepped around her, kissing his way across the back of her shoulders and neck, feathery kisses that left a trail of goose pimples in his wake. Farah drew a long shuddering breath as he kissed his way back around her shoulders and up her throat, ending with a soft kiss to her lips again. He leaned back, enjoying the sight of her open lips and flushed skin. Her sunkissed skin danced with shadows from the flickering fire, and her breasts rose and fell gently with every breath she took. Shah felt his blood quicken as he watched the shadows dance across her naked chest, and he resisted the urge to reach out and fill his hands with her soft mounds. He tore his gaze away and focussed on her face. Her eyes, dark and uncertain were wide and innocent in her beautiful face. Slowly, he took her hands and placed one against his cheek, watching her reaction carefully. 'Your turn.' He murmured, letting go of her hand. It stayed there of its own accord, which he took as a good sign. 'I won't touch you until you ask.'

Farah took a deep breath, and stepped closer. Rising up on her toes slightly, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Shah kept his hands by his side, kissing her back gently, willing himself to go slow. Emboldened by her success, Farah kissed him again, firmer, pushing into him slightly. Shah could feel her breast press against him, two hard nubs rubbing against his thin shirt, and he groaned involuntarily. Farah leaned back, watching his desire grow in his eyes as he fought with himself to stay still for her. Painfully slowly, she slid her hand down his shirt, tugging gently at the lacing and feeling it give beneath her fingers. Fascinated, she watched her hands as they moved lower, grasping the bottom of the shirt and lifting it over the prince's head, revealing a muscular body that set her pulse racing. As it got higher, the prince helped her lift off the shirt, and her hands drifted down to rest on his hardened chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath the skin. Electricity bolted through her as she grazed her palms over his peaked nipples, and he groaned loudly as she skimmed across them with a feather light touch. Enjoying her power over him, she ghosted lower, her fingers dancing over his chiselled abdomen, making it flex in response.

'That tickles.' Shah grunted apologetically. Grinning wickedly, Farah splayed her hand over his belly again, lightly tickling over it, and Shah's hand shot out and grabbed hers, making her jump. She glanced up, seeing the lust in his eyes, and smiled coyly as her other hand started to move again. Shah closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her tiny hand on him and releasing her other hand. As Farah's fingers reached the waist of his trousers, she found two diagonal lines and ran her hands down them. Fascinated by them, she followed them down over the material, and grazed something hard. Shah groaned loudly, and Farah paused to look at him. He had his head down, and his hands were fisted at his side in an attempt to keep from touching her. Farah took pity on him.

'Touch me Prince.' She whispered, her voice in that new husky tone that she was beginning to like. Shah's head snapped up, and he locked gazes with her, wild lust to smouldering power. His hands snaked out and rested on her hips, his fingers running up and down her sides as she danced her hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. Cautiously she kissed him, and his hands stopped at her hips as he kissed her carefully. Feeling adventurous, she ran her tongue along his closed lips, and her prince opened them just enough. She slipped her tongue inside tentatively, exploring carefully. When her tongue brushed against his, she froze, but his gentle caress soothed her, and together they began to dance slowly. Her confidence grew, and she thrust against his tongue harder, moaning as she did. Shah's grip on her hips tightened, and he dragged her to him, crushing her to his body, his hands possessively sliding over her backside as their tongues battled for dominance. Farah gasped in shock as she felt a hard length pressing into her underbelly, and Shah took advantage of the fact to lift one hand to the back of her head, holding her against him and sweeping his tongue around hers. His other hand squeezed her buttock, and he felt her hands skim round his shoulders to clutch at his back as she lost herself to the heady sensations. He trailed hot wet kisses down her jawline, following her throat to the swell of her breast as her hands tangled in his hair. She leaned back, unruly curls falling free as he licked around her breast, getting closer and closer to her sensitive peaks. His hot mouth closed over it, and she cried out in pleasure as his tongue swirled around her nipple. Her leg rubbed up his slowly, and he supported her curved back with one hand as his other grabbed her leg and hooked it around his waist. He ground closer to her, his length pressing into her centre as she clung to him in wanton desire while his teeth nipped at the soft flesh of her breast.

'Unh, Prince…' Farah moaned as his hand slid higher up her thigh, caressing her smooth rounded cheek and moulding it to his fingers. Questing further, he sensed heat and continued his path as his mouth switched to the other breast, his fingers moving relentlessly towards their goal. Farah's hands clutched at his head as his tongue moved languidly over her taut nipple, and Shah grinned against her skin as his fingers found the source of the heat. Sliding a single digit along her, he groaned as he felt how silky she felt. Farah jerked, crying out as his finger caressed her lightly, the slight touch making her wet centre pound in excitement as she rolled her hips towards her tormentor. The prince left her breast, closing his eyes and panting heavily as he fought to maintain control.

'For someone who is unsure of this, you certainly know how to tease, woman.' He growled, his hand sliding round and across her thigh again. Farah smiled coyly, and Shah's blood pounded in his ears.

'I'm a fast learner.' She purred seductively, and the prince abandoned all pretence of control, grabbing her head and slamming his lips to hers in a demanding and ferocious kiss. Farah moaned as hot pleasure shot through her body, feeling her womanhood become slick and wet at the sudden intrusion. Shah pressed closer to her, forcing her backwards roughly, his linen trousers straining to confine him as his hardened member leaked through the thin material. His hands roved down he body, holding her flush to him until her knees hit something soft. Quick as lightning, her prince left off kissing her, he ripped the covers back then, hooking his arm around her knees and lifting her bodily, he laid her tenderly on the bed. Farah scooted backwards, her nervousness returning as the dancing light licked across his chiselled body. Shah lost himself for a moment, watching her full breasts bounce as she moved, her aroused tips dark against her toned skin. Her legs rubbed nervously against each other, long elegant limbs that slid silkily over each other, drawing his gaze higher to her perfect centre.

'Lie back.' He instructed softly, and Farah nodded slowly. Her legs moving sinuously, she stretched backwards with feline grace, lying back against the pillows. Her arms automatically came up to rest either side of her head, baring her completely to her lover, who drank in the sight gladly. 'Woman, do you know what you do to me?' He growled huskily, and Farah's eyes slid downwards, following his muscles to his obvious arousal, and her gaze grew dark with lust. Taking a deep breath, she crooked a finger and beckoned him to her. Shah groaned and crawled onto the bed, his hand finding her leg and running up it as he moved closer to her. Farah's body rolled as his hand slid over her supple skin, following the line of her hip, across her belly, over her sensitized straining tip and around her neck to grasp her head as he leaned over her and kissed her hard. He pinned her in place as her hands smoothed down his body to his waistband, where she tugged on the lacings. Shah pressed closer to her, his weeping manhood pressing against her as she frantically kissed him back, her questing fingers sliding under the material and delicately lying on his rear end. The princess clenched her hands slightly, and her lover gasped as she massaged his soft skin, his member twitching in pleasure against her as she learnt the right buttons to push. But it wasn't enough. Frantically, she grabbed his waistband, pushing the thin material as she desperately sought to feel his skin against hers. Her lover rolled to her side, lifting his hips and there was a frenzied few moments as they rid themselves of the last barrier between them. Shah turned to her, and Farah gasped, then blushed as the size of him dawned on her. She looked away, embarrassed and shy, and the prince chuckled. 'Still nervous my love?' Farah felt a warm glow at the term of endearment, and his strong fingers on her cheek turned her back to him. Slowly, he slipped his hand into hers and drew it towards him. Fascinated, Farah watched her hand glide closer to his exposed erection, her blood heating as his wet tip shone in the light. As her fingers met his velvet skin, Shah closed his eyes in pleasure, letting her hand wander as his hand dropped away. Farah gingerly stroked down his shaft, following the hard line of flesh, and entranced by the experience. Wonderingly, she wrapped her hand around his base, and Shah groaned loudly, the sound drawing her attention. The prince's head was back against the pillows, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his hands fisting in the sheets. Farah watched carefully as she slid her grasping hand up his length, watching the shudder that ran through him and the pleasure in his face.

'Does that make you happy Prince?' She asked, quietly, her gaze lidded. 'Do you want me to do it again?' The prince moaned as she rubbed her hand down him again.

'By the gods yes!' He gasped, his hips jerking as he panted loudly. Farah smiled seductively, all naivety gone as she rubbed up and down him in long smooth strokes, her clenched hand hot and warm around his engorged length. She watched avidly as she worked, her hand pumping hard as his tip leaked juices. She swirled her thumb around his tip, and Shah's hand shot out and grabbed her hip, his fingers digging into her, almost painfully, but the princess smiled in anticipation. Struck by an idea, she chanced a look at her lover's raptured face, and sank her hot wet mouth over him. 'Unh!' Shah grunted, his body tensing. He tasted salty and hot, and Farah put her tongue to use as she worked over him, her tongue swirling and licking along his shaft. She sucked him slowly, dragging her lips off him with a small pop, and then immediately sank onto him again. Shah's hips jerked in response, his hands grasping her head as she bobbed on his erection, sucking and licking along him. She moaned, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge, his self control nearly shattering as she flicked her tongue over his weeping head. He dragged her up to him and kissed her deeply, tasting himself in her mouth and clasping her lithe body to him. In a fluid motion, he rolled them over so that she was positioned beneath him. Her hands clenched on his shoulders as they eagerly delved into the other's hot cavern, running tongues along teeth and mashing together as Shah's hand drifted between them. Farah jerked as his calloused fingers slid between her legs, pinning her hot folds apart and sliding along her silk centre. She shuddered, moaning as his finger moved back and forth, feeling her hot juice dripping from her and exploring her crevice.

'Gods…' She breathed as his finger tortured her, ripping her mouth away for a moment as she rolled beneath his experienced digits. Shah grinned wickedly as he claimed her mouth again, then slid his finger inside her quickly. She stiffened at the intrusion, and Shah waited for a second, feeling her hesitation, then pumped it in and out once, twice, three times. Her walls were so wet, and hot and ready for him, but he forced himself to go slow as she adjusted to it. Her leg slid up his, stroking along his side and hooking behind his leg, and he kissed her fiercely, his passion taking over. Quickly, he slipped a second finger inside her, and Farah cried out at the new sensation. Her hips moved reflexively as he pushed, burying his fingers hilt deep inside her, feeling her muscles flex around him as her head thrashed. 'Unh…Prince…' she panted as her hands dug into his shoulders, her nails scraping in painful pleasure against his skin. 'Gods…yes…ah!' She screamed as she came, her walls clenching around his fingers as her orgasm ripped through her and poured her juice down his fingers. Shah kept moving, watching as his goddess jerked in pleasure, her mouth wide and panting as she rode out her climax on his talented fingers. As she floated down the other side, the prince loomed over her, licking his fingers and savouring the taste of her. She watched in a pleasure filled haze then grabbed his hand, surprising her Prince. Her eyes on him, she licked his fingers, tasting herself and moaned slightly as she felt him twitch against her. Shah, his eyes filled with lust, watched closely and waited. 'It's time, Prince.'

'This will hurt, but it will fade, I promise.'

'I'm ready.' The prince smiled down at his love, then leaned down slowly to kiss her tenderly. Supporting himself on his elbows, he kissed her chastely and nudged her legs apart with his knee, positioning himself at her entrance. Farah sighed in contentment as she felt his tip nestling against her dripping entrance, and Shah waited until she looked at him. He held her gaze as he slid gently in, feeling her barrier. Leaning down, her kissed her tenderly, then thrust his member in sharply, breaking through her final barrier and driving home. Farah cried out, and he rained kisses on her, fighting to stay still as she adjusted to the feeling. His hands stroked down her, smoothing her tense muscles, whispering words of comfort as she slowly grew accustomed to him. Hip bone to hip bone, she could feel him throbbing inside her, and she felt strangely satisfied as her feet tangled around his thighs. The prince groaned as the new angle opened a deeper depth for him, and he couldn't resist a slow pull out so that he could plunge in again. Farah gasped, and he froze, but the pain was dulling to an ache, and Farah kissed him to indicate it was time to move. Shah groaned and leaned into the kiss, thrusting into her again, and Farah arched her back in pleasure as she forgot her pain. Her lover slowly picked up the pace, moving languidly at first, then faster and more urgently as he let his desire take control. She was hot and wet and tight, and he grunted happily as he plunged into her again and again, his hot manhood sliding easily in and out of her, her walls slick and pulsing as they clenched around him. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her up, sitting back so that they were flush to each other. She unhooked her legs and braced on the bed, moving sinuously in his lap as he lapped at her collarbone, thrusting upwards into her as she slammed down onto him. Her breasts bounced as she moved, her hands on his shoulders giving her leverage as she pushed down onto him.

'Prince! Ah….gods….my love…..Prince!' She screamed as Shah filled her again and again, her body on fire as her climax raced towards her. Shah tipped them backwards again as her felt his orgasm boiling to the surface, dragging her legs behind him and burying himself in her hot cavern until he wasn't sure where she ended and he began. Again and again he slammed into her, Farah's hips ramming upwards to meet him as his head dipped into her shoulder, his hands clutching at her hips as he plundered her depths. Farah's nails scraped down his back, and he hissed in pleasure.

'Farah, gods….unh…..yes….Farah! UNH!'

'Prince, ah, ah, ah, ah, AH!' Farah screamed as her orgasm ripped through her, more powerful making her see stars. A second later, Shah's followed, his hot seed spurting into her, his thrusts slamming into her as he prolonged their release. Farah shuddered as her nerve endings frazzled, her body stiffening as she came, feeling herself clench around his pulsing shaft as he filled her completely, his body tensing with the effort. Shah dropped his head into her shoulder, his body sweaty and hot as his thrusts slowed and finally stopped. His breathing laboured, he stayed there, a pleasant weight on Farah's chest. Lovingly, she wrapped her arms around him and tickled over his back, calming him as his heart rate slowed. After a few minutes, he turned his head tiredly.

'I'll give you a million gold pieces not to stop that.' He mumbled. Farah smiled indulgently.

'Give me your heart and we'll call it even.' She whispered. Shah slowly withdrew from her depths and rolled over, pulling her with him. He looked down at her from the pillow as she propped her chin on his muscled chest.

'Can't give you what you already have.' His hand traced the line of her spine as he watched her closely. Farah smiled and contentedly laid her head down, her ear pressed to his beating heart. Her husbands warm hands drifted across her silken skin, soothing away her pleasantly aching pains.

'I love you, Kakolukia.' She murmured as she drifted off to sleep. A soft kiss brushed against her hair.

'And I love you, Princess.'


	15. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Persia, sucks to be me Please don't sue me, unless you can benefit from a penny!

Epilogue

The sun was high and the day was half gone as Shah finally put down his quill. Rubbing his face tiredly, he got up and walked onto the balcony, watching the busy life of the city in front of him. He spun round as footsteps raced across his marble floor, catching his tiny son as he flew through the air towards him. The young boy giggled happily as his father tossed him in the air, laughing at his smile.

'He's only just eaten.' A disapproving voice said, and Shah turned. The sight of his wife never failed to take his breath away, and he stepped towards her, taking care around her swollen belly.

'He's fine. And you, my beautiful wife, worry too much.' He leaned in close to her, kissing her neck below her ear, and Farah smiled, her ire ebbing away at his charm.

'Again Papa, again!' The boy demanded, tugging on his father's hair. Shah laughed loudly, turning to his son.

'Anytime, Raman, anytime!' He tossed the young boy in the air, then placed him on the floor gently, chuckling as the boy ran off to his toys.

'I received a letter from Thaseem this morning.' Farah mentioned, taking Shah's proffered hand and following after their son. 'The empire is flourishing, he is doing well, and he reports that Mhari is expecting. Marathat is thrilled, apparently they can't seem to stop him talking about his new son.' Shah chuckled.

'That sounds like Rath.' His eyes sparkled as he imagined his once straight laced brother getting all gooey eyed over his new son.

'Thaseem has asked for our blessing, by the way.' Shah turned to her, his eyebrows raised. 'Apparently, he plans to wed.'

'Really? Who?' Farah avoided her husband's gaze.

'Nona.' She stated simply. Shah stared in shock.

'Your Nona?' Farah nodded nervously. 'But she's a handmaiden.' There was a pause, and suddenly he laughed. 'Well, that's As all over. Never goes for the easy option. I honestly wish them every happiness. But can you manage without her?' He asked, his tone worried. Farah smiled, relieved that he was settled about it.

'I'm sure I can find someone else. It will be nice to have her as a real part of the family.' She laughed as her son brought her one of his toys and ran off again, playing a game with himself. Her love slipped an arm around her burgeoning waist and squeezed her happily as the nurse followed after their son.

'Your Grace.' A servant bowed to them, their hands pressed together. 'Your presence is required in the Council Chambers.' Farah sighed reluctantly.

'We are on our way.' The servant bowed again and hurried away. 'Time to run a country, Maharajah.' Her husband grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to it, his gaze locked with hers hungrily.

'With you by my side, Maharani.' He grinned.


End file.
